Tu M'as Laissé
by echorise
Summary: It's been 4 years since he left. Marinette is in her last year at design college and Hawkmoth was defeated years ago, but that doesn't mean Paris is no longer in trouble. That doesn't mean she no longer needs her Chat. Ladybug/Marinette X Chat Noir/Adrien
1. You Left Me

**Hey guys, this is a lil somethin' I'm gonna be writing when I want to take a break from serious things and just want to write for the enjoyment of it. It's most likely gonna be super depressing and angsty with some pretty adult themes/language/situations, so you have been warned. Also I'm going with what someone on tumblr said about calling her yo-yo a bandalore(the old french word for it), because I'm gonna get real tired of writing "her yo-yo did this..etc." Also really hoping I got the french translation right, haven't lived in France for a while now and my French is not what it used to beee.**

 **(C) I don't own the Miraculous Ladybug or any of its characters.**

* * *

You Left Me

Ladybug clutched at her ribs, breaths coming sharp and fast as blood pooled between her fingers. She was crouched in a battle stance, back leg trembling at the hip where her suit was soaked through. The girl on the ground behind her sobbed brokenly as she tried desperately to pull down the hem of her torn skirt, the gashes on her thighs glistening wetly in time with the ugly glint off the blade currently being brandished at them.

The man's eyes were crazed, bulging, adrenaline coursing through his dilated pupils, the knife in his hand violent with it. Ladybug's eyes flickered to her right before she could help herself and the resulting onslaught of disappointment made her teeth clench in anger – partly because of her traitorous eyes, and partly because there had been the tiniest shred of hope remaining there to begin with. But it had been four years since she'd seen a trace of that glossy black leather, and she'd survived without _him_ so far. She would continue to do so.

Her bandalore smashed into their attacker's hand, the knife skidding out of the alley and into the lamp-lit street.

" _You bitch –"_ he advanced, teeth bared, the words steaming from his lips in the frigid Parisian air.

Her entire left side was numb, vision blurring from blood loss. Her trembling fingers found the holster attached to her thigh and unsheathed the knife held there, the sight of the naked steel churning her stomach with revulsion and desperation. She pointed it at the man. He paused. Her lips pulled back in a snarl and she lunged, the blade slicing the back of his jacket as he retreated back into the night.

"… _Ladybug?_ " The voice was a tentative rasp and Ladybug looked down at the girl in the mud, took in the whites of her eyes and the pupils that were focused solely on the weapon in the hand of her rescuer. Ladybug dropped the knife, both of them flinching as it clattered to the ground. She fell to her knees, suppressing the urge to dry-heave.

" _Lady –_ "

"Go to the hospital, tell them what happened. Have them do tests for his DNA. They'll catch him. Go quickly before he comes back." The girl blinked at her, face uncomprehending.

"But…you need help –"

" _I'm fine._ Go. NOW." The girl staggered to her feet, limping towards the end of the alleyway. She turned back as she was about to round the corner to the street, looked at the girl that was once the savior of Paris.

"But Ladybug, where are your spots?"

She left without waiting for an answer.

…

Marinette collapsed on her bed, careful to not tear the dressing she'd wrapped around her rib cage and rip open her stitches. She really _had_ needed to go the hospital, but would have to make do with her own handiwork – being a top-notch designer really was useful sometimes, if she did say so herself. Her kwami, Tikki, was silent as she lay there. She snuck a glance at the tiny red bug and realized that was indeed all she was – there wasn't a single black spot on her skin anymore.

"…Has it really been that long, Tikki?" The ceiling cracks bore down on her in the darkness. She felt the kwami stroke her hair from the pillow, the rhythmic motion calming her aching body as she waited for the pain meds to kick in.

"I'm sure he had his reasons for leaving. You had both defeated Hawkmoth, Paris was safe. He didn't leave out of fear, at least." Tikki replied and Marinette sighed, having never considered him one to run from fright in the first place. He had been many, _many_ things, but a coward was not on that list.

She sometimes wondered if she would sleep better if he _had_ run simply from being afraid, at least then she would have an explanation as to why he suddenly disappeared with no warning. All the parades and award ceremonies had only been tinged by pity towards her as she stood on those podiums alone. The looks on people's faces when they saw her and the tragic newspaper headlines led to her not showing up for events, and eventually the invitations had stopped coming.

Hell, whenever citizens did actually manage to catch a glimpse of her most of them didn't recognize her anyway. Not without her spots.

And those had started disappearing when Chat Noir had decided to leave, one for each month he had been apart from her, and now there were finally none left.

* * *

 **So many things unanswered already~**

 **Feel free to drop me a review, the more I get the more I'll be motivated to write, probably.**


	2. Stitches

**Thanks so much for the support on this already, glad some of you are enjoying it as we descend into Ladybug hell together.**

 **(C) I don't own any of these characters.**

* * *

Ch. 2

The fog was low in the city the next morning, mildly lightening Marinette's mood (she was a huge fan of fog) while doing absolutely nothing about making her body feel any less destroyed. She'd had to get up early to change her bandages and that had been a real sacrifice considering her first class of the day was an 8AM. She was a _Senior_ , for crying out loud, she hadn't put herself through almost four years of college just to get stuck with the short stick. But there she was, trudging her way to the Metro, eyes squinting in the predawn light and Tikki nestled comfortably in her coat pocket.

She sniffed the air secretly hoping for snow, when she paused as she realized where she was. Her route to college brought her passed the old Agreste Manor, and she couldn't help but stop briefly every time to take it in. Four years ago the mansion's foundation had collapsed, leaving a devastating pile of rubble in its wake. The Agreste family had forgone clearing it away and had opted to just leave it to rot, the majority now overgrown and slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding, once-immaculate gardens.

She remembered the day it had happened, the uproar it had caused. The boy she had loved at the time, Adrien Agreste, hadn't gone to school that day. She hadn't seen him since.

She abruptly turned away and continued her commute, Tikki rubbing her thumb in comforting circles inside her pocket.

She managed to make it through her first fabrications class, but by the time her merchandise management class came along the bandages had become even more constricting and her frequent, shallow breathing seemed to have irritated the stitches, as she felt a warm trail of blood trickle down her side.

She stood up and left, earning a dirty look from her professor but not caring as she clutched at a bathroom sink, face pale in the mirror opposite. Bloodied paper towels surrounded her and her hands shook, but she somehow made it back to the train and to the safety of her drafty apartment. At least her bed was warm as she popped more advil and cocooned into the covers, Tikki curled against her stomach.

Her phone rang and she groaned.

"H-eyy girl, just checking in, seeing how that stupid dress is coming…" Marinette smiled at the nervous edge to Alya's voice, eyeing said dress which was currently being modeled by her mannequin.

"It's done Alya, I texted you about it yesterday. You can't keep calling hoping I'd somehow destroyed it and you'd have to cancel your own wedd –"

"AAHHH YES WELL THANK YOU MARI, BE SURE TO BRING IT WITH YOU TONIGHT THEN SEE YOU BYE." The phone went dead and Marinette massaged her temples. Why her best friend was so nervous about her own wedding, she had no idea. She'd been dating Nino ever since sophomore year of highschool, they were perfect together and everything she'd ever aspired to be with Adr –

No. She wasn't going there.

Alya's call had reminded her that her blissful day in bed was going to be very short-lived, as she was planning on having her wedding at her parent's house in the countryside and required her Maid of Honor to be there the night before to help with preparations. Duty called, and it was going to be a long train ride.

After a quick nap she felt marginally better (she suspected the pain pills also had something to do with it), her bags were packed and the dress was carefully wrapped in a box that Marinette was prepared to defend with her life. Not only was it one of the most important aspects of her best friend's special day, it was also what she considered her single best design to date. She couldn't wait to show Alya.

She locked the door to her apartment and her phone buzzed, her parents letting her know that they were on their way and would see her tomorrow at the wedding. They had left Paris when she graduated highschool and now lived in Normandy, so Marinette only got to see them occasionally. She probably would've moved with them had she not been determined to attend the design college in the city, and (if she ever admitted it to herself) she just couldn't bring herself to leave Paris. Not when so many memories were trapped in its rooftops.

…

Marinette, a true Parisian, would never confess that fresh country air smelled any different to the smog of the city. But that was because Marinette, like most Parisians, rarely left the city, and then promptly forgot what clean air smelled like upon their return.

It was just so _crisp_. Her eyes watered at the freshness of the rolling fields and the noticeably colder chill of the wind, burrowing her nose into her scarf. Tikki shivered and Marinette put on her gloves before folding her hands back in her pockets, giving her kwami something to cuddle up to.

A black car pulled up to the bus station (she'd had to take one from the train) and Alya was out the passenger door before the vehicle had even come to a stop, arms spread wide and grin taking up the majority of her face.

"MARI! Why do I never get to see you!?" Arms were successfully chocking Marinette and she staggered beneath her energetic friend, trying to spit her hair out of her mouth in order to reply.

"It's not MY fault you decided to go get a Journalism degree from somewhere OTHER THAN PARIS." She coughed out and Alya laughed and held her at arm's length, frowning as she noticed just how pale and slightly green her friend was looking.

"Oh _no_ , do _not_ tell me my Maid of Honor is sick," she clutched their heads together, trying to take her temperature with her own forehead while simultaneously sticking a finger down her friend's throat and getting her to say "ahhhh."

"That's _enough,_ I'm fine, seriously. Just tired, I was up most of the night putting the finishing touches on this," she gestured to the box that was miraculously still in her hands. Her friend gasped, reaching for the lid, when the driver's door of the car finally opened to reveal her fiancé, looking as cool as ever with his easy smile and laid-back demeanor.

"Woah, woah, woah, no. You do _not_ get to see this until it is upon my gorgeous body and marching down the aisle towards you, comprende?" Nino laughed and waved towards the car, helping Marinette load in her luggage.

The drive was full of last minute plans still not done, RSVP's that were cancelled at the last second, and something about soggy pastry dough that was apparently causing the end of the world or something. Marinette just sat back and listened contently as her friend went on, glancing occasionally at Nino and smiling every time he would just turn his head slightly to his fiancée and get this funny look of complete adoration on his face. Marinette's heart constricted painfully, the corners of her mouth furrowing ever so slightly.

It wasn't too long to the country house which ended up being more of a 200 year old chateau, complete with automatic front gate and at least 10 acres of manicured grass and forest. Marinette expected to see peacocks at any second.

"Alright, I'll show you to your room, it's right next to mine and it's fabulous and you'll love it and it faces the garden and also there's something I didn't tell you that you're going to hate me for and oh look there's a cow in the field over there eating grass and –"

Marinette stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs, her bandages tightening and loosening and tightening and loosening as she focused on breathing and standing and _trying not to punch something._

Adrien Agreste stood at the top of the stairs.

Green eyes wide, one foot on the top step and looking as if he were caught in headlights, _Adrien Agreste stood at the top of the stairs._

Marinette turned and left back out the front door.

* * *

 **Someone's got some 'splainin to do.**


	3. Reflection

**Some strange things are afoot...**

 **(C) I own none of the characters**

* * *

"MARI! MARINETTE! PLEASE COME BACK I'M SORR – _WHERE ARE YOU EVEN GOING?"_ Marinette ignored Alya as she charged towards the expanse of trees encroaching onto the property, desperately seeking the hidden safety of the shadows as she tried to breathe.

 _Adrien. Adrien. Adrien. Adrien._ Even her heartbeat betrayed her.

Because he had just stood there. He hadn't even looked as if the sight of her had caused his entire being to dissipate and every repressed thought, memory, and hope he'd ever had of her to simultaneously resurface in that one moment, as was currently happening to her.

"Mari! Seriously… _pant_ …stop for a sec…" Alya had caught up and grabbed a hold of Marinette's arm, spinning her and holding her in place by the shoulders, eyes wide and pleading.

"How could you not _tell me?_ " She whispered, eyes closed and all emotion and life drained from her completely. Alya flinched as if slapped and her bottom lip trembled, unable to look at her friend that she'd as good as betrayed.

"He's still Nino's best friend Mar, Nino wants him here and I can't take that from him. I know that we agreed that we'd never mention him again, I respected your decision on that, but this is Nino's day as well as mine, and I couldn't not have you come to my wedding, either. I need you here," she tentatively wrapped her arms around Marinette's shoulders, trying to still the quaking there; "I won't be able to get through this without you. Please?"

It took a while to coax Marinette back into the house, and she stayed silent the entire time as she was lead by Alya to her room in a trance. Adrien hadn't made another appearance and for that Alya was immensely grateful. But there was still the rest of the weekend to get through, and dinner was in an hour.

"Just…let me know if you need anything, alright? You can unpack, sleep, whatever, and I'll come get you for dinner, ok?" Marinette was left hesitantly and she sat on the edge of the sprawling bed, blankly staring at the wall. Tikki struggled out from her pocket and sat forlornly on her shoulder, cheek to cheek. The two were used to sharing their grief.

"Maybe…this will be a good thing?" Tikki suggested haltingly and Marinette cringed at the closeness of her voice and the content of her suggestion.

" _Tikki,"_ she breathed and her kwami nodded with understanding. She knew the darkness in her charge's heart better than anyone, she was all too aware of the current abandonment, betrayal, and crushing, _crushing_ hope that was warring inside, chocking her breaths and silencing her sobs.

Marinette caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the vanity table and froze. The girl looking back at her was pathetic. Pale, weak, with red-rimmed eyes and a trembling chin. The girl looking back at her was not Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and she sure as hell wasn't Ladybug, either.

 _Not that the regular Marinette could own to that nowadays, though,_ she thought bitterly, dragging herself to her feet and causing Tikki to fall onto the bed covers with a startled squeak.

" _So what?"_ She hissed between her teeth, fists clenching and eyes narrowing. Why had she even dwelled on that boy for all that time to start with? Just because they had been _almost dating_ when he disappeared meant nothing. _Almost dating_ was not _actually dating;_ there was no reason for her to still feel bitter about his rejection. She was 22 years old, for crying out loud! She'd paid for her own college and managed to make rent (sometimes), she didn't _need_ a boy she'd pined after _four years ago_. She wasn't even the same person she'd been back then, why would she think that she would still be interested in who he was now?

She stomped to the bathroom down the hall and washed her face before making her way downstairs, smiling with satisfaction as the voices grew noticeably quieter with her arrival.

Five pairs of eyes turned to greet her as she entered the dining room and she inwardly smirked at their obvious nervousness. Well, at least four of them were nervous.

Green eyes met hers and she stared at them, refusing to back down, to submit, to forgive. A claw raked its way down her spine, a cold breath blew over the nape of her neck.

The eyes that looked back were empty.

…

"Isn't this nice…?" Cutlery clinked as Alya tried and failed yet again to initiate sustainable dinner table conversation. Nino smiled at her encouragingly but the tangible, increasing tension between their two best friends who had refused to have contact with each other since highschool was just not helping the matter.

Marinette finally caught on to Alya's resting pout and sat up straighter, reminding herself that she was there for the girl getting married tomorrow, and her residual feelings, _whatever they may be,_ for the boy sitting in front of her would have to take a back seat.

She turned to Nathanael on her right, an old friend from highschool who was currently attending the same college as her for graphic design.

"Have you started your final projects yet? I know they're like three weeks away but I think I'll try to get a head start on them so I'm not as rushed as last year – remember the croissant incident?"

Nathanael snorted with laughter, nodding enthusiastically and trying to swallow wine at the same time. Alya beamed and struck up a conversation with her friend from college – Melodie – and the awkwardness evaporated. Until Nathanael started asking Adrien questions, at least.

"So...Adrien," he begun, effectively capturing Marinette's undivided and begrudging attention, "I heard you've been studying abroad in America for college, how has that been going?"

 _He was in America this whole time?_ Marinette subconsciously gripped her silverware tighter.

Adrien smiled and she noticed it didn't quite reach the rest of his face.

"Yes, I actually just graduated and am back to get some family affairs in order. Hopefully it shouldn't take too long, but I can't say I haven't missed France a bit." His speech patterns were different than what she remembered, his calm and kind voice had been replace by something cold and cultured and not, she hated to admit, unlike his late father's. Even his clothes resembled the impeccably dressed Gabriel Agreste. As a designer she admired the fine tailoring and flawless style. As a human she resented its sterility.

"And what about you, Alya?" Nathanael continued, having come out of his shell in college and now overeager to talk once people actually started talking back, "How's the Ladyblog coming? Are you still doing that?"

A shadow passed over Alya's face and Nathanael obviously instantly regretted his questions.

"Four years," she began and Nino rolled his eyes, preparing for the rant he knew was coming, "four years of my life I gave to those two, and how do they repay me? By splitting up. Gone. The end. Not even a farewell tour or autograph signing or agreement for the rights to a TV show based off their crime fighting adventures. Chat hasn't even been _seen_ for _years_. Like, at least Ladybug shows up occasionally, even if she did undergo that outfit change, and her fighting style is a bit, um, _different_ now. Chat just disappeared into the goddamn night leaving her behind and _I just get really emotional about it ok? SHUT UP._ "

She directed the last part to her fiancé who was sniggering silently and earned himself a fake slap across the cheek. Everyone else took up the shared outrage, as the duo had been a huge part of their growing up and they were all too emotionally attached to the heroes for their own good.

Marinette stared at her half eaten food. When she looked up she realized that Adrien had excused himself from the table and was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 **Something's FiShY~**


	4. Revelations

**Well, this was a goddamn _doozy_ to write, let me tell you. Some questions get answered and mama Dupain-Cheng goes full-out Mrs. Bennet on us, and some alcohol consumption and dark imagery is featured, you've been warned. There's quite a few feels in this, so be careful.**

 **Also I'm curious as to who got here from tumblr? Gimme a shout if you did - I'd love to know what my audience is like on there~**

 **(C) I own none of the characters, just this story.**

* * *

The house was absolute chaos.

Wedding guests had begun arriving three hours ago, bridesmaids ran up and down the stairs fixing outfits and doing makeup and Marinette was in the midst of it all, right by the bride's side as said bride was having a panic attack.

"Alya, seriously calm down, would you? Everything's fine and almost ready, the thing's not meant to start till five anyway, we have plenty of time." Marinette reassured her best friend, patting her on the back as Alya fanned herself with her hand, trying not to sweat her immaculate face off.

Marinette sighed, "Look, let's just get your dress on and you can sit down, have a mimosa and just relax until it's time, ok?" Alya nodded wordlessly and Marinette went to fetch the dress from its hanger, presenting it to her friend who, even in her hyperventilating state, couldn't help the enormous grin that stretched across her entire face.

" _Oh Mari –_ it's _beautiful,_ " she whispered, running her fingers through the liquid silk and spindle web lace, the off-white contrasting perfectly with the caramel of her skin. The strapless front gave way to a plunging back and every inch of it just screamed _Alya._ In that moment Alya knew that she'd made the right choice in recruiting her best friend to make her dress – who better to encapsulate her entire personality in an item of clothing?

It fit like a dream, as she knew it would.

…

The ceremony was outside, a sacrifice that attendees had to make as they forwent warmth for the stunning pictures the winter light and landscape presented. And stunning they were, as about 10 minutes after the ceremony was finished the blue sky was marred by clouds and swirls of snow descended, presenting an unforeseen and completely welcome photo opportunity for romantic newlywed pictures.

Marinette watched on with amusement and posed for all the photos she was told to, all the while trying in vain to ignore the towering blonde who, by force of duty, was made to stand next to her in every one. She refused to think about the brief minute where they had been required to touch as he escorted her down the aisle at the lead of the other bridesmaids/groomsmen, or that he'd _walked down the aisle with her_ in general. Or about how ridiculously good he looked in a grey top-hat and tailcoat, with his cheekbones and _shut the fuck up Marinette, this is so not the time for this._

"Are you ok? You're shivering," Marinette turned to Nathanael, then looked down at the outstretched jacket in his hand, his own nose tipped with pink and the top-hat clashing endearingly with the color of his red hair.

"Oh no, I'm fine! Thank you though," she waved her hands in dismissal and he raised a pointed eyebrow at her short, strapless blue dress and the goosebumps that laced every inch of her _very_ visible skin.

 _Dammit Alya, you could've found LONG dresses that matched the color of the sky just as easily…_

"Seriously, it's fine, we're about to go inside for food anyway, this'll just get you warmed up faster," Nathanael nodded to his jacket and she took it against her better judgment, smiling contently at the instant warmth it provided. He smiled shyly and walked off to engage another groomsman in conversation and Marinette noticed her parents approaching her, conspiring smirks on their faces.

"Maman, Papa, it's been a while!" She rushed up and hugged them, ignoring the faint scent of Nathanael's cologne as she moved.

"Too long, my darling. Such a beautiful wedding, maybe one day we'll even get to attend _yours…_ " her mother implied and Marinette felt her ears burn instantly.

"Mum, I'm _22_ , I'm soooo not ready for that at this point!" she hissed, ignoring the chuckles emitting from her father.

"I'm just saying dear, that Nathanael is rather agreeable, don't you think…?" her mother covered her smirk with her hand and Marinette glanced around wildly, stomach plummeting as she realized _Adrien_ was within earshot and _looking right at her._

If Marinette had ever wanted a time to literally die on the spot, it was then.

She was saved from thinking of ways to instantaneously disappear by Alya, looking giddily happy next to her new husband, announcing that it was time for dinner.

An ornate wedding tent had been erected on the lawn, the draping sides with French windows allowing for the heat of the charcoal heaters inside to warm the entire space, each of the guests sighing contently as they were ushered in to their tables. Fairy lights cast the pristine white tablecloths and elegant flower arrangements with a cozy glow, looking every bit the winter wonderland Alya had been gushing about for months.

Of course the wedding party had to share a table, but by the grace of the benevolent-God-that-was-Alya, Marinette was saved from sitting next to Adrien, although he was only about two people away as there were only six of them total. Nathanael was sat opposite her this time, and Marinette suspiciously wondered if this was going to be a reoccurring pattern. Her best friend _was_ pretty devious, after all.

"Oh, here Nathanael you can have this back, I'm warm now, thanks," she passed his jacket back over the table with a smile and noticed Adrien watching her out of the corner of her eye.

"So Adrien," Melodie began, sitting opposite Adrien, "Nathanael mentioned last night that you've been in America the past four years? What made you decide to go?" Everyone's attention shifted to the man who was currently sipping champagne, eyebrows raised at the sudden number of eyes upon him. He set down the flute, elegant wrist exposed as the cuff of his shirt rode up with the movement. Not that Marinette noticed or anything.

"Well," he began, "my father died near the end of my senior year of highschool. At the time I didn't really see any point to going back. The school allowed me to graduate and mailed me my diploma but by then I was already gone. My father's business needed running and I was his only heir so I thought college in America was more pertinent, as the majority of his clientele had branches there. I also just wanted to experience different cultures. I spent a semester in China, as well." He finished and was met with understanding nods and a quiet Marinette.

"Why China?" Melodie continued as their first course was served. Adrien shrugged, one corner of his mouth tilting up, "I spoke Chinese and already had an interest in the culture, so why not?" he replied, and Marinette would've bet all the commission she'd made that year that he had glanced at her when he spoke.

"Are you too hot? I can turn down the heater if you want?" Nathanael fretted and Marinette assured him that she was fine, knowing full well that the blush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, and angry at herself for that revelation.

Before dessert a microphone was promptly dropped into her lap and she looked up, startled, at Alya gesturing for her to stand. Right – the Maid of Honor speech. _Merde_.

"Um…can I have everyone's attention, please?" she began hesitantly. Public speeches still weren't her forte. No one paid her any attention.

A ringing cut through the chatter and everyone turned to Adrien, who had smartly rapped his knife against the side of his champagne glass. He nodded to Marinette to continue and she turned her head quickly before he could see her grateful expression.

"Good evening everyone," she began, voice shaking but gaining momentum, "I'd like to thank you all for coming to celebrate Alya and Nino's special day. For those of you who don't know – I'm Marinette, Alya's best friend, and also her Maid of Honor tonight, and what a complete honor it's been! The two of us have dreamt about our wedding day since we were kids – and yes, I said _day._ We were pretty adamant that we would have a joint wedding, if not just marry each other. I guess she left me in the dust, but don't worry, I'm not bitter about it or anything." The crowd chuckled and Alya winked from her table.

"Alya, I'm just…so _ecstatic_ that you managed to find someone as kind and perfect for you as Nino, if not the tiniest bit jealous. And sorry Nino, but it looks like you're stuck listening to her Ladybug rants from now on!" Nino shook his head in pretend despair and Alya rolled her eyes.

Marinette carried on, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall, "I just wish you both the most happiness that any couple has ever felt ever. Now would everyone please stand and raise a glass to the new couple – to Nino and Alya!"

Everyone chorused and sat, Marinette swiping at tears as a hand gently lifted the microphone from her grasp. She looked up to meet Adrien's smile, a genuine, if not sad little smile that softened his eyes and made her heart contract.

She was left stunned as he turned to the crowd and everyone was instantly silent – he'd never had to try to get a room full of people's attention.

"I'm Adrien, the Best Man. I had to travel all the way from America to be here today, but there was no way on Earth that I'd miss this. Nino was there for me on my first day of public school after being homeschooled my entire life, and hasn't left my side since. Well, figuratively, as least. Who said long distance relationships don't work?" The guests laughed and Nino slicked back his hair, aloof.

Adrien grew somber, "Nino was there for me when my father died, and supported my decision to leave France when I had no one else to turn to." Marinette's teeth clenched.

"Alya went to highschool with us and I could tell from the ridiculous way Nino looked at her that his fate was already sealed, seriously – you really need to be more discreet about that," he directed the last part to Nino, smirking, and Nino rolled his eyes.

"I can't think of a couple more deserving of their fantastic friends, family, and each other, and wish them both the best for the rest of their lives. To Nino and Alya!"

The toasts were finished and the cake was cut and eaten and Marinette was ready for _bed._ But of course this was a French wedding, and those always required an absurd amount of drinking and dancing before anyone was even allowed to _think_ about retiring for the night.

And of course, as per Maid of Honor duties, she was required to share a dance with the Best Man.

Marinette had managed to avoid thinking about it all day, but when they were instructed to line up as the newlyweds were about to be presented for their first dance, she couldn't help but be thrust back into excruciating reality as her arms were somehow suddenly wrapped around Adrien's bicep at the front of the wedding party train. She really wished she could remember how to breathe.

A waiter went by and she grabbed a glass, knocking back what appeared to be whisky, before turning and allowing herself to be lead onto the dance floor by an amused Adrien.

"I really don't think that's going to help your dancing skills," he commented and she noticed the slight flush of alcohol in his cheeks, which would explain him actually talking to her. She gave him a dry look while placing a hand over his shoulder and clasping his hand in the other, trying to ignore the warmth and _how does his hand still feel familiar to me?_ She waited impatiently for their queue and looked at anywhere but him, telling herself that her hip did not burn where his other hand rested on it.

Adrien moved and they were completely in synch as they drifted across the floor, rotating around Nathanael and Melodie and letting the rest of the background blur together, neither one leading but both knowing precisely where the other was going to go.

Without warning Adrien tripped and as he tried to righten himself the hand on her hip slid up to her ribs and she visibly flinched, eyes watering and a hiss escaping her lips. His eyebrows furrowed and he stood were they were, off to one side of the dance floor. She wouldn't look him in the eye.

"What was tha – "

"Mind if I cut in?" Nathanael was suddenly by her side and she turned to him gratefully, not looking back at Adrien as she took up the other man's hand and left. She didn't see him for the rest of the night.

…

It was finally an acceptable time to retreat to bed, and Marinette was one of the first to retire. After dancing and drinking with Nathanael for the majority of the night she was more than ready to put up her feet and face the impending hangover in the morning, _if she could just get this goddamn dress off._

Currently in her room, the zip at the back of her dress was apparently welded shut and despite her or Tikki's best attempts, refusing to budge. She was currently bent over the bed, face to the mattress out of fatigue and frustration, still reaching for the zip, when there was a knock at her bedroom door. Tikki quickly hid under a pillow and in Marinette's hazy mental state she vaguely recalled Melodie promising to bring her some Advil for the morning before she went to bed.

"Melodie? Thank God – the door's open, just _please_ help me out of this fucking thing," she groaned, tired arms flopping to her sides. She heard the door open and close with a click and a pair of warm hands on her shoulder blades. The zip slid down effortlessly and she sighed with relief. She turned around to face her savior.

" _Finally –"_ she froze. That was _not_ Melodie.

Adrien stood there, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair ruffled and jacket and hat nowhere in sight.

"Where did you get that injury?" he gestured to the bandages peeking obviously out the back of her unzipped dress, mouth a hard line.

Marinette glared at him from the bed, all too aware of the fact that she was in a rather compromising position but the absolute _gall_ of his question left her more angry than embarrassed.

"I rather think that's none of your business," she snapped back and his face remained impassive.

"Of course it's my business, you're my –" he paused, refusing or unable to continue.

She laughed humorlessly, "Your what? Your friend? Your _partner?_ "

He said nothing despite the underlying context of her allegation and his emotionlessness suddenly sparked even more anger in her. She stood to her full height, facing him directly and allowing her dress to fall to the floor, revealing her underwear as well as the extent of her injuries, along with the knife she kept sheathed to her thigh at all times. His face definitely showed emotion then.

"This," she pointed to a thick scar that marred the top of her right leg, extending from abdomen to mid-thigh, "is what I got from my first solo mission after you left. The man had been using a butcher's cleaver to mutilate girls who had spurned him. I was 17."

She stepped closer, turning and jabbing at a patch of silvery flesh off to the right of the base of her spine, "This was from a woman who had been using a flamethrower to burn people alive for killing her baby, which had turned out to be stillborn."

She began to unwrap her bandages and his eyes followed her every motion, every nick of silver and pink on her skin another twist of the dagger in each of his organs. She revealed the stitches that she had obviously done herself and he couldn't help the breath that caught in his throat at the sight of the puckered, bloody mess.

She let the bandages fall to the ground and unsheathed the blade from her leg, holding it so that it caught the faint light from the bedside lamp.

" _This_ I carry because the monsters are no longer monsters. They're people in their most primitive state. No magic. No mind control. No object to release an Akuma from. They don't stop because a butterfly is freed, the evil is in their head, and there's no other way to protect the innocent anymore without me also sinking to their level. A _yo-yo_ can only do so much, and there was no Chat Noir to have my back when I needed him."

Marinette wasn't stupid. She may have been blind for the first few years, but Adrien and Chat Noir disappearing at the same time had only confirmed her growing suspicions. From the look on his face Adrien had also come to the same conclusion about her other identity.

They stood chest-to-chest, his once-neat hair shadowing his turbulent eyes.

" _He couldn't be there because he no longer exists,"_ his whisper ghosted over her eyelashes and he left her standing there, tears falling silently and the dagger heavy in her hand.

* * *

 **So they do actually know about each other, but Chat Noir no longer exists? What am I even writing?**

 **Stay tuned for the next chap!**


	5. Whiskey For Breakfast

**Right, well this one was originally a lot longer, but I don't know when I'm gonna have time to work on it, and it's filled with a lot of feels so I want to have time, so I just split it and am posting this part now. Enjoy.**

 **(C) i don't own any characters**

* * *

As predicted, Marinette was hungover when she woke up.

Tikki was already by her head with pills in hand and Marinette swallowed them gratefully, hissing at the white light emitting from the window after she managed to pry her eyes open. Her room was freezing, but that was understandable considering the _six feet of snow on the ground outside._

" _Tikki,"_ she groaned, rolling over and further swaddling herself in the covers, wondering why she only had her underwear on instead of pajamas. Suddenly everything that had happened last night came back to her and she wanted to die.

On the plus side, they had finally both acknowledged each other's secret identities in a roundabout way. On the other side, apparently Chat Noir no longer existed and Adrien was still as cold as ever and _she had stood shamelessly in front of him in her underwear and uuggghhhhh._

She needed another drink.

After a shower she crept downstairs, fully not expecting anyone to be awake that early (it was 9AM, but still). Of course, Adrien was sitting at the kitchen table. Who was it that said ladybugs were lucky, now?

He looked up from his phone and with satisfaction she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

Without a word she ventured to the coffee pot and poured a mug, watching the heavy snowfall out the kitchen window. She could practically taste the tension in the air.

Thankfully Alya pranced in and Marinette startled, slopping coffee onto the floor.

"Um, what the hell are you still doing here? Don't you have a _honeymoon_ to be on?"

Alya shook her head sadly, "Roads are closed, we were gonna leave this morning but all flights are cancelled anyway so there's no point. Everyone who left last night got home safe though, so that's good at least."

Marinette was already shaking her head, "What about the trains? When is it meant to get better? I have class Monday morning!"

"Trains are closed until further notice, and it looks like the storm won't blow over for at least another two days," Adrien replied and Marinette shot him a scathing look, partly because he had said something, but mostly because of the prospect of having to stay locked up in a house with him for another _two days._

She definitely needed another drink.

Breakfast was quiet as everyone looked a little worse-for-wear. Marinette tried to be inconspicuous as she poured whiskey into her coffee, but of course she saw that Adrien noticed. She dared him to say something but he just went back to his toast, hair once again pristine and making Marinette feel like a troll for being at the same table as him. Nathanael slid his coffee towards her, looking away innocently, and she smirked and poured some into his cup as well. At least he had bed head like a normal human being.

"Alright. So," Alya began, getting everyone's attention, "my husband and I will be hosting a Harry Potter marathon in the livingroom. Anyone is free to join, but other than that just do whatever you want. That's it – go entertain yourselves."

She got up and left, Nino trailing behind with a bowl of cereal, and Marinette looked at the others. Adrien got up and left, presumably back to his room, Melodie took a poptart and a bottle of wine and wondered into the livingroom, leaving her and Nathanael looking at each other.

Without saying anything they grabbed the biggest blanket they could find, the rest of the whiskey, and went out to sit on one of the swinging chairs on the patio.

…

Adrien lay face down on his bed, letting the covers suffocate him slightly as he tried to get his thoughts in check. That was essentially what he'd spent the entire night trying to accomplish, but with the sun had come the realization that he was no closer to making sense of everything that had just happened and that it was absolutely impossible to get the image of Marinette in her underwear out of his head.

Her body was just so… _torn._ His hands clawed at the sheets as the memory of all of those injuries, old and new, came to mind every time he closed his eyes. Each one had been his fault. He had left her, abandoned her completely, with no excuse because he'd been too much of a coward. How could he even _face_ her, knowing what he had done? What _they_ had done?

Because with her confession last night there was no more denying to himself that she was Ladybug. When they'd been in highschool he had started noticing the similarities between the two, that was what had drawn him to her, even. He had been about to ask her out on a date, not really even caring at that point if she wasn't Ladybug, when the final showdown with Hawkmoth had happened and he had had to leave.

He heard talking from outside and went to look, freezing as he saw Marinette and Nathanael cuddled up in a blanket, swinging and laughing below his window. His jaw tightened, remembering the foot that had tripped him when they'd been dancing last night. Even with his bad luck, he wasn't _that_ uncoordinated.

 _But no,_ he thought, absentmindedly playing with the silver ring on his finger, _it was Chat Noir who had bad luck. Chat Noir and Plagg._

And he hadn't seen the kwami in four years.

…

Marinette and Nathanael dusted snow off their boots and rejoined the others in the living room, realizing that they were now on the third movie and that they'd been outside longer than they'd thought. They giggled quietly to themselves and stumbled to a couch, faces flushed from the cold and the alcohol. Of course the only free couch happened to be the one with Adrien on it, who was promptly shoved aside to make way for the rather drunk duo.

They were about halfway through the movie when Adrien noticed that Marinette had been staring at him for the last 20 minutes.

" _What?"_ he whispered, unnerved and uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze

"Since when did you wear glasses?" she slurred and he blushed self-consciously as everyone turned to face him, eyebrows raised.

"I wear them when I'm tired, ok?" he answered, averting his eyes. Everyone else turned back to the movie.

"But you never wore them when you were Chat – _murmph"_ he quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, looking around frantically to make sure none of the others had heard. Luckily, they were all engrossed in the movie. He felt something warm and wet on his hand and he instantly recoiled, looking at her in disbelief as she sat there with her tongue out. _She'd actually licked him!_

She yawned, drew the blanket up closer, and snuggled into his side. He froze, unsure of what to do with his hands, when he heard a faint mumbling coming from under her breath. He leaned closer and couldn't help the sad smile that flickered on his lips.

" _Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I've been up to London to visit the Queen…"_

Alya found them both asleep when the movie finished, his head on top of hers. She promptly woke Adrien and the memory of it would bring a devious grin to her lips for weeks afterwards – she'd never seen him blush that dark before, and would definitely not be letting him forget it anytime soon.

* * *

 **Told you it was short, but a lot of you kiddies are impatient so here's this to tide you over for a bit, at least~**

 **I'm really glad that I'm going to college for my Masters degree and am spending what little free time I have writing fanfic, just saying.**


	6. Bandages

**Well, this chapter was definitely fun to write. You'll find out why~**

 **(C) I don't own the characters**

* * *

Marinette woke up just before dinner in her bed with no recollection of how she got there. She turned to the bedside table to check the time and frowned at the tube of Neosporin and pile of bandages neatly folded next to a glass of water. Tikki was sitting by them, an eyebrow raised, and Marinette didn't have to ask to know who'd put them there.

The kitchen was a calamity when she entered, shopping bags and food packages scattered around every counter.

"Adrien kindly went shopping for food for the next few days, there was only so much wedding cake I could handle," Alya wrinkled her nose and Marinette looked at Adrien who was busying himself with unpacking a carton of eggs.

"Very kind of him," she replied dryly, joining the fray by putting packages of hot chocolate mix into the pantry.

…

Marinette cooked dinner, as she was the only one with a solid cooking background that could be trusted in the kitchen. She was polishing off her second glass of wine when Nino shoved away from the table, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well, that was delicious Marinette, and I for one am all too ready to take a dip in that _very_ inviting hot tub outside…" he wiggled his eyebrows at his wife, eliciting a blush from her, and Nathanael's head popped up, eyes eager.

"A hot tub?! I'm _so_ in there. Mari?" he looked at her hopefully and she shook her head sadly.

"Sorry, I think I'm just gonna go to bed. You guys have fun though." There was no way she was going to let the others see her scars.

Nathanael was a bit too visibly disappointed, "Oh, well, in that case I guess I might just sleep too – "

Before he could finish he was promptly swept up by Melodie and marched out the back door in a procession of limbs and three demonic grins.

Marinette turned to the only other person still sitting at the table, "Not going to join them?" she asked Adrien, if just to fill the silence as they cleaned the plates away.

"As much as I'd love to be stripped and thrown into a pool of boiling water, I'm going to have to pass." The outside screams of someone's clothes being forcibly torn off, accompanied by a splash, made her suppress a snort.

"…Thanks. For the bandages and stuff," she mumbled, all too aware that he was most likely skipping the outside activities for her benefit.

"No problem," he replied, loading plates into the sink. "Also, if you need, uh, help changing them or anything, I can do that. Help you, I mean," he stuttered, eyes not meeting hers.

She tilted her head, considering him and his awkwardness. He obviously knew that he was overstepping a line, but it was also obvious that he did actually want to help. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the prospect of having to reach awkwardly to do it herself, but she nodded.

"That would be helpful. Thank you," she ground out stiffly, hoping she wouldn't regret it.

…

"So…how do you want to do this?" he gestured uncertainly to her sitting on the edge of her bed. Without a thought she took off her sweater. He just stood there looking at her bra incredulously.

"Ladybug print? Seriously?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Are you going to rewrap my bloody injuries or not?" she crossed her arms angrily over her chest, hiding the red-spotted black lace. She didn't care what he thought – it was _cute_.

He cleared his throat. "Right, well, let me just…" he found the edge of the bandage and began to unwind. She refused to look at him and completely ignored his arms encircling her, his breath on her neck. The dim lamplight turned his hair to honey and _she wasn't going to think about that._

His sharp inhale notified her to him reaching the end of the roll and she shivered from the sudden cold. Wordlessly he applied the cream, fingers warm and soothing against the angry flesh, and began to re-bandage, his movements practiced and sure. She didn't need to wonder how he was so good – she was sure they'd both had a lot of practice.

She felt the lightest brush against her bandages and looked down to see Adrien with his lips to the cloth, eyes closed and agony marring his features. She jerked away and slid further across the bed, speechless. His eyebrows furrowed and the look in his eyes when he opened them was nothing but shear despair.

"My Lady…can you ever forgive me?" he pleaded, and she was startled by the old endearment. She shook her head, refusing to allow the memories to overwhelm her. Behind her eyelids she could see the twinkle of Paris in the early hours of morning, smell the freshly baked bread from the rooftops.

"Tell me…tell me why you left me," she choked, anger welling at his hung head and silence.

"I just…never thought you really needed me that much. You were always getting by fine by yourself, and I generally made things worse anyway, with my bad luck…" he trailed off. She stood.

"Tikki, _transform me_." His head snapped up and saw the red kwami emerge from her hiding place, shoot him a look, then melt into Marinette's earrings. A flash of light revealed Ladybug, _his Ladybug_ , standing there, contempt radiating from behind her mask.

" _Never really needed you that much,_ do you _see_ what happened to me after you left? All those injuries, all those scars, those were nothing, _nothing_ compared to _this_ ," she gestured at her suit, her skin-tight, and _uniformly colored_ suit. There wasn't a black spot to be seen.

"But…how?" he managed to get out and she turned away from him, pacing towards the window. She stood there, letting the moonlight wash her features blue and eliciting the most startling shade from her eyes.

"Every month you were gone, one disappeared. _Every month_ I was again reminded of your absence when I would go to save someone, when the people I rescued had a harder and harder time recognizing me. Without you, I lost my identity." She turned to face him, the outside light framing her silhouette.

She pulled the knife from her thigh holster, the blade cold and unforgiving.

"Without you," her hand shook, but she refused to lower her gaze, "I wasn't _me._ And this, _this_ was who I had to become." She threw the knife across the room in disgust; he flinched as it thudded dully into the wall.

"I became just as bad as those _monsters._ How could I even _face you –"_ a sob cut her off and she clutched at her arms, face averted and teeth clamped down on her lower lip to stop its traitorous trembling.

Adrien stood and approached her slowly, mouth a hard and humorless line as he spun his ring around his finger.

"How could _you_ face _me_? You've had to adapt – to become stronger, to make up for my selfishness."

He tilted his ring and showed her the black surface on top. She glanced at it, then frowned, inspecting it closer.

"It's black, but there are no…?"

"No paw prints. Right. How could _I_ face _you_ when my own kwami couldn't even stand to be around me? Plagg disappeared into here a month after I left France, and I haven't seen him since."

Eyes wide, Marinette released her transformation and Tikki glided cautiously to Adrien's hand, blue eyes sadder than Marinette had ever seen them. Her hand caressed the obsidian surface, eyes closing.

"He won't come out. Not unless you _want_ him to," she looked up at him, her huge eyes harsh, before disappearing back in the direction of the bed.

"I'm just…so _so_ sorry. For everything. I know nothing I can say will change anything; I just wanted you to know that. And if there's anything I can ever do – "

She leant forwards, tilting her head up to him, his breath catching in his throat.

" _Don't you understand?"_ she whispered, " _I don't need you anymore."_

Because she didn't. Not the memories. Not the feelings. Not the _gut-wrenching hurt._ Those had plagued her growing up and she was only just now getting over them. She didn't need him suddenly showing up reopening old wounds. She'd worked too hard to forget him for him to ruin it with his presence.

"Tikki!" she turned and unlatched the window. The resulting blast of icy air and light left Adrien momentarily blinded and when he managed to open his eyes again she was gone, and no amount of him calling and pleading brought her back.

* * *

 **Adrien, you done fucked up.**


	7. Fever

**Sorry for the wait. Also if anyone's interested in reading this in French it's currently being translated by zoemitzuko, so go check that out if you're interested.**

 **enjoy~**

 **(C) I own none of the characters**

* * *

Marinette came to the realization that she'd made a grave mistake with her hasty escape after about .2 seconds of being outside.

It could've been worse, she reasoned. She could've not found the shed at the end of the garden to spend the night in, effectively shielding her from the snow. She also could've not found that burlap sack to use as a blanket, either. All in all, her situation hadn't been _terrible._ It would've been vastly improved, however, if her pride had just let her slink back into the house to sleep in her warm, comfy bed. But it hadn't, and she'd had to make do.

Having nowhere else to go (seriously, the house was in the middle of goddamn _nowhere_ ) she snuck back through her window at the first light of dawn. She thought about thanking Adrien for leaving it unlocked, but then war flashbacks of last night struck her and she vehemently disregarded that thought.

She was finally able to release her transformation – she'd only been wearing a bra and leggings in her civilian clothes, after all – and both she and Tikki collapsed into the bed, burrowing under the covers. Her body reflexively sought the rather large source of warmth emanating from the other side of the bed and she idly wondered who had been kind enough to put a space heater in there before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was a while before she woke, and when she did she was hopelessly disorientated and couldn't figure out what had woken her in the first place. It wasn't until she heard the sudden intake of breath in front of her face that she very, _very_ reluctantly cracked her eyes open with impending dread.

Wide, green eyes stared back, horror-stricken. The temperature under the covers suddenly became stifling and neither moved, both unsure of how to proceed.

"Um…" Adrien was the first to respond, and it was only when he was trying to back away that they both realized that his arms were around her and their legs were hopelessly intertwined. He froze, not wanting to jostle her.

" _Fucking hell, it's too early for this,_ " she breathed, eyes closing again and burying her cold nose in her hands, sniffling slightly.

"Did you…did you _catch a_ _cold?_ " Adrien whispered incredulously, still not moving. She shrugged and retreated deeper into the mattress, trying to suck the warmth from it as well as his body. Her teeth chattered desperately, body giving small, shivering spasms.

"Hold on, I'll get Alya – " he blinked at her groan as she shook her head slowly in protest.

"No, it's meant to be her _honeymoon_. I'm not waking her up early for something as stupid as this," she opened one eye to peer at him sarcastically, "I also advise against going anywhere near that bedroom of theirs before they're ready and decent to emerge." A faint blush colored his cheeks and he turned away, staring determinedly at the pink-tinged roof of their makeshift tent.

"Can I, uh, get you anything, then?" he mumbled and she had to restrain her smirk at how awkward he was being. Obviously talk of intimacy made him uncomfortable, but of course she already knew that, having known him during highschool. Poor little homeschooled child. It was nice to see he hadn't outgrown it. She tried not to think about what this information might entail (maybe he _hadn't_ had swarms of American girls in his bed every night like her spiteful brain had been concocting images of for the last few days).

"Soup," she croaked, mostly testing how far he was willing to go with the doting mother charade.

"Right," he nodded and left the bed cocoon, taking the heat with him, much to her displeasure. Her amusement at his actions eventually gave way to fatigue and she promptly fell back asleep.

…

Adrien would never admit it, but he was actually immensely excited to be looking after someone – and _Ladybug_ , of all people. His family had always been distant and with his constant traveling he'd never been able to have a pet (he _was_ a cat person, after all). And now his Ladybug was actually asking for help – something she'd never done no matter the situation they'd been in (he'd always had her back, after all, so she'd never needed to ask). He just wished it hadn't been at the expense of her health.

Also, he really needed to keep his grin in check. And to stop thinking about her as _his_ Ladybug. He had no right to that claim anymore.

Right, soup. He spread the ingredients out in front of him. He promptly realized he had no idea if those even were the ingredients, and that he had no idea how to do this. He'd never had to cook in his life.

 _Merde,_ he thought, and pulled out his phone.

…

Marinette awoke to something that smelled…amazing? No. Good?...Also no…Edible?...Maybe. If she had no sense of smell.

Her nose wrinkled and she cracked an eye open, her heart constricting slightly at the sight of Adrien disheveled, looking uncertain and embarrassed with a potato peel in his hair and one of Alya's mother's aprons tied around his waist.

He noticed her gaze and hesitantly stepped forward, a steaming bowl of whatever it was that he had concocted clasped between his hands, apologies already streaming from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, this probably tastes horrible, I've never cooked before and _I don't understand why I didn't buy any canned soup when I was at the store_. You don't have to eat this or anything, in fact I'm just gonna go throw this away – "

He turned to leave and stopped as she threw the covers off and stumbled her way towards him, trying to stop the smile coming to her lips. Without a word she took the bowl, ignoring how their fingers brushed, and brought it to her mouth, sipping experimentally. He started to say something when he was silenced by her tilting her head back and swallowing the entire thing, throat burning from the heat but unrelenting until she'd finished every last drop.

"Mediocre," she coughed, handing him back the bowl, "I expect the next one to be vastly improved."

"O – of course!" he then noticed what she was wearing and looked around the room, "Also, do you want a shirt or a sweater or something…?" he trailed off and she was reminded that she was indeed only in her bra and leggings still.

She shrugged, "No, I sleep better in my underwear when I'm sick. In fact…" she promptly began shimmying out of her leggings, almost giving Adrien a heart attack and making him urgently usher her towards the bed and securely bundle her with blankets, despite her protests.

"If you don't need anything else I'll be downstairs," he turned to leave.

"Wait," her muffled voice emanated from her restraints and he looked back, raising a questioning eyebrow, "…don't tell any of the others about this. I don't want to bother them with something so stupid."

He nodded, opening the door. "Wait!" He tilted his head over his shoulder.

"…What were you doing in my bed in the first place…?"

His heart thumped and he focused his eyes on the door knob, his answer so quiet she bared heard, "I was waiting for you to come back." He left.

"…Your soup was awful." she told the closed door, and further down the hall Adrien covered a grin with his hand.

…

"Where's Marinette?" Alya looked around the table at breakfast, noticing the absence of her best friend.

"She's still in bed," Adrien replied, taking another sip of coffee and pausing at the sudden stares boring into him.

"How do you know that…?" Nathanael asked slowly, as if speaking through a fog.

Adrien raised an eyebrow, looking nonchalant while secretly stalling as his brain tried to come up with a feasible excuse.

"I just haven't seen her out of her room so I just assumed," he lied smoothly, trying to ignore the holes being drilled into him by Alya's gaze.

"…You two did go to bed around the same time, and we were outside for a good couple of hours, leaving you two plenty of time to…catch up," Alya annunciated each syllable, scanning his face for any sign of anything. She was met with a very well-practiced look of amusement. He was not a successful businessman for nothing, after all.

"I went to bed, no idea what she did. Maybe she stayed up late and is just sleeping it off?" he suggested, then got up, announcing that he needed to make a phone call to his secretary. The others were left with skeptical and conspiring looks, and a certain redhead stared at the table, hands clenched.

…

Adrien snuck back into Marinette's room after triple-checking that everyone was still downstairs, his stomach plummeting as he saw her flushed cheeks and labored panting.

"Merde, Marinette," he rushed over, placing the back of his hand over her forehead and pulling back at the heat, "merde, _fuck_ , ok – Marinette, can you hear me?" His hands fluttered around her uselessly, his brain trying to drag up any information it had retained from movies and shows about what the hell to do in this situation. Bring the fever down – damp washcloth! Medicine! He really fucking needed to get Alya right now!

"I'm going to get Alya because this too dangerous and I have no idea what I'm doing. Just…hold on, ok?" Without thinking he touched his lips to her forehead with desperation, worry flaring as he was scalded.

He turned for the door and she caught his hand, her fingers feverish against his.

"Don't leave me again. Please." Her voice croaked and her eyes were barely focused and _why couldn't he make her better?!_

His lips pressed together in a semblance of a smile, knowing full well that she didn't mean him getting a washcloth. He squeezed her hand and the door shut behind him. It wasn't until after her fever had broken and she was back in her right mind that she realized he hadn't said anything back.

* * *

 **Oh Adrien~**


	8. Ruin

**Sorry for the wait, finals are unrelenting and now I'm moving to another country in 2 months, so things are pretty hectic, but I'll update this when I can~**

 **(C) I don't own any of the characters**

* * *

Marinette was faced with what was perhaps one of the worst dilemmas she'd ever experienced.

They all stood in the snow outside the house, bags packed and contemplating (or in her case, glaring with dread) at the two cars in the driveway. The roads were finally clear enough for travel (although public transportation was still down) and one of the black cars in front of them was her ticket back into the city for her classes tomorrow.

The only issue was that it was Adrien's.

"Mari, seriously thank you so much for coming, there's no way I could've done all of this without you," Alya squeezed her and Marinette dutifully ignored the cracking emanating from her ribs, "get better and I'll see you soon, ok?"

Marinette nodded enthusiastically and sniffled, whether from holding back tears or from being sick she didn't know, and gripped her best friend back just as forcefully.

" _And sorry about the travel arrangements, Nino and I can always just take a detour and drop you off home…"_

Marinette vehemently shook her head in protest, "No, that's ridiculous, you're going in the complete opposite direction and you have a plane to catch for your _honeymoon._ I can suck it up for a day. Go, have fun." She shoved Alya in the direction of her husband and Melodie, who was hitching a ride with them to the airport.

She tried to ignore the impending sense of doom as she turned to face the situation she would be dealing with for the next five hours. It was about as bad as she expected.

Adrien and Nathanael stood on opposite sides of the car at an impasse, Nathanael seeming to be experiencing some sort of internal dilemma as he kept looking back and forth between the passenger seat, the back seat, and her. Obviously his hatred for Adrien was conflicting with his willingness to subject her to Adrien's side for the entire ride. His jealousy won and he slid into the front, much to Adrien's displeasure, if the almost unnoticeable eye twitch was anything to go by. She hated that she could still pick up on it.

Marinette heaved a sigh, waved once more to Alya, then plonked herself into the back seat, arms crossed and staring purposefully out the window. There was the rush of high quality fabric against leather as Adrien slid into the driver's seat and starter the ignition, the vehicle _purring_ beneath them and she had to marvel at the irony. Of course Chat Noir would have a car that _actually purred._

But no, she scolded herself, he wasn't Chat anymore. Her Chat had left a long time ago.

"Are you alright back there? Not feeling sick or anything?" Nathanael was turned around in his seat, eyes concerned. She pretended not to notice the flicker of green on her in the rearview mirror.

"I'm fine, kinda queasy but I probably won't throw up, so no worries," she smiled back, hoping her face wasn't looking as peaky as she thought it was.

"So…what're you planning on doing when you get back? You said you already started on your finals, right?" Nathanael began and she decided to humor him, even though she didn't particularly feel like talking at that moment.

"Not yet, but I probably will like today or tomorrow. What I have planned will take quiittee a while to fabricate," she coughed into her sleeve as Nathanael nodded his head, impressed.

"You'll have to show me once it's done then! Ah, if this wasn't our last semester I'd say we should totally team up for a project. Damn, don't know why I didn't think of that earlier," he smiled regretfully and she bobbed her head in agreement, stopping when the motion sent a rush of nausea through her stomach.

Encouraged, he continued chatting away, needing only the vaguest prompts from Marinette to keep going. All the while she tried to ignore the slow burning of her skin, the dizziness of her vision, and the hair sticking to the back of her neck.

The three of them were suddenly jostled as the car abruptly pulled over to the side of the road.

"Hey! What the – " Nathanael began, turning to see Adrien disappearing out the car and throwing open Marinette's door. He watched with equal parts fascination and disgust as Adrien knelt in front of her and placed his hands to her cheeks. It was only then that Nathanael noticed how flushed she was, her eyes slightly unfocussed and breaths panting softly. He felt sick for not realizing earlier, and that _Adrien_ got there before him.

Marinette's eyes flickered slightly at the chill of Adrien's hands on her face.

"You're burning up, why didn't you say anything?" he scolded and her eyebrows flashed downwards in anger. A retort was fresh on her lips when she saw the concern behind his guarded expression and she bit it back, inhaling sharply. Instead, she unclicked her seatbelt and pushed passed him, stumbling out of the vehicle and making her way to the snow bank on the other side of the ditch.

"I'm fine, just kinda hot," she mumbled and promptly fell face-first into the untouched powder. She ignored the startled protests from behind her and focused on the way her scorching skin was melting everything it touched. She refused to think about how the feel of his fingers still lingered on her cheekbones.

…

Marinette had never been so warm. Actually, that was a lie. The last time she had been that warm was about a day ago after another snow-related incident that, coincidently, had also involved the current bane of her existence. Her brain started to piece together a pattern when she swiftly squashed that thought before it had a chance to grow any further.

She became aware of the faint roaring sound that filled her ears and briefly wondered if it was some prelude to passing out again when the scent of soap reached her, relaxing her slightly as she realized it was just someone taking a shower. She breathed again and the air caught in her throat at the scent of the _very distinctly masculine_ shower gel and her eyes flashed open, memory of the car ride finally resurfacing.

She was in a tiny, unfamiliar room, the wallpaper outdated and the rest of the décor tending towards the grandmother variety. She just spotted snowflakes outside the darkening window when the door to the right of the bed she was laying in opened and a _very wet and half-naked_ Adrien emerged and Marinette's brain promptly shut down, leaving her to stare blankly at that ridiculously toned chest of his.

He blinked when he saw that she was awake and subconsciously tightened the towel around his hips.

"Sorry, I forgot my clothes out here," he offered as an explanation, moving into the room to rummage through his duffel bag on a chair in the corner.

The sudden exposure to his back muscles as they flexed and reached were doing nothing to get her thoughts to be comprehensible again, but luckily Nathanael decided at that moment to enter the room and distract her enough to restart her system.

Nathanael frowned when he saw Adrien's state of dress, then smiled when he saw Marinette's gaze on him, the smile slowly slipping from his face at her expression.

"Nathanael…Adrien…where the fuck am I?" her voice was dangerously calm and the two men visibly stiffened, Adrien recovering first and straightening, clothes under his arm.

"Well, after you decided to go gallivanting in the snow and falling unconscious we couldn't continue on, so managed to find this bed and breakfast to rest in until you decided to grace us with your presence," he finished, turning and shutting himself back in the bathroom. She turned back to Nathanael who shrugged in confirmation.

"Your fever was pretty bad, luckily the old lady that runs this place knew what to do about it," he added, sitting on the bed and placing the back of his hand tentatively across her forehead. She blinked at the sudden contact but didn't recoil, his blush telling her that he was just as uncomfortable with it as she was.

"You temperature seems to be better now though, we can probably leave as soon as you feel like it," she nodded, then raised an eyebrow at him when he didn't move from his perch.

"…I'm sorry, for not noticing how sick you were. I just kept talking! I can't believe…" he trailed off, not meeting her eye, and her heart twinged at how obviously genuinely upset he was about his incompetence. She placed a hand on his cheek hesitantly, unsure of her actions. His eyes flickered to hers, confusion and hope marring his gaze.

Of course Adrien reemerged at that moment, causing her to lower her hand with ridiculous speed, although she had no idea why and she hadn't been doing anything wrong. His raised eyebrow told her that he had seen, but his returning to his bag to zip it up told her that he wasn't going to comment on it. Nathanael stood awkwardly, hovering by the edge of the bed but unable to be turned towards her fully.

 _If uncertainty was a physical entity_ , she thought sardonically, _it would have Nathanael's face_.

"Well," she began, pushing back her blankets, "I feel much better, so let's get going. How long do we have left to go?"

Nathanael looked at his watch, "About…3 hours. You were out for a while."

She mentally smacked herself, "Great. Well," she stood, blinking away black spots.

They gathered their things, thanked the landlady, and were just out the door when something occurred to her.

"Wait, why was Adrien showering?" she asked the group at large, her curiosity spiking when Adrien walked off in the direction of the car without comment and Nathanael adopted a devious smile.

"Well, you kind of threw up over him when he was carrying you to bed," he smirked and Marinette couldn't help the snort that escaped her. For some reason she just couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it.

…

They made it back to Paris around eleven, with plenty of time to prepare for classes the next day and get a decent amount of sleep.

Nathanael was dropped off first with a cheerful "See you in class tomorrow!" aimed her way and a begrudging thanks to Adrien for driving, and then it was just the two of them driving through the brightly-lit streets. To say it wasn't one of the most awkward things Marinette had ever experienced would be a lie. The fact that she'd apparently thrown up all over him while unconscious wasn't exactly helping, either.

She'd slid into the front when it had been vacated and the distance between them was a very conscious thing, each move of his hand on the gearshift inadvertently brushing her thigh, knuckles grazing the thin fabric of her leggings. She didn't pull away, and he didn't say anything about it.

"Thank you for driving us, we would've been stuck there until the trains ran if you hadn't," she stated simply, attempting to downplay how grateful for it she actually was just out of principle.

"You're welco – " his speech cut off and she looked at him curiously, realization dawning as she took in the tightening at the corners of his mouth and eyes, the setting of his jaw, the hard, unrelenting gaze. She looked ahead out the windshield and confirmed her suspicions.

In front of them was the empty shell of the old Agreste manor, the decay and ruin terrible in the artificial street light. She saw it for the first time through the eyes of someone who didn't walk by it every day, through his eyes, and was struck again by the absolute devastation of something once so grand.

She was transported back to the day she had first seen it in this state, the emotions she had felt then plainly reflected on his face.

"Did you…did you not see this before you left?" she started hesitantly, watching as he gave a small start at the suddenness of her voice.

His breath rattled as he drew it, forcing himself to blink and look away, focusing on driving.

"I…I saw it," he replied.

They turned a corner and it was gone.

…

They idled outside her apartment, the low thrum of the car reverberating around the enclosing walls of the surrounding buildings. She realized all at once how shabby and run down the place must look to him but couldn't bring herself to feel shame for it. She'd gotten this place by herself, after all.

He'd been even more distant after seeing the wreck of his old home, and the sheer brokenness of his expression brought some long-repressed feelings for her old partner and crush to the surface. She had a sudden, overwhelming desire to ask him about his life in a way she would have never allowed herself 20 minutes ago. Where are you planning on staying? Do you remember to eat when you work late? How long are you going to be in Paris? Did you ever manage to reconnect with the rest of your family?

 _Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me?_

She locked her apartment behind her and slid down to crouch at the base of the door, her fingers knotted in her hair as the deep purr of an engine faded into the distance.

* * *

 **Man, will these two ever actually deal with their shit?**

 **The answer? Probably. And painfully.**

 **Lemme know what you think~**


	9. Shadows

**Whew, this one... _this one,_ well, you'll see. **

**(C) I own none of the characters~**

* * *

The alarm went off and Marinette blinked, having not realized the time as she'd been preoccupied with the cracks on the ceiling that had demanded her attention from the moment she'd crawled into bed. Tikki glanced over from her spot on the pillow, eyes weary and wary and neither of them said anything as Marinette slowly rose, turned off the alarm, and swung out of her bedroom window as Ladybug. They both knew there would be no going to classes today.

Snow lashed at the exposed skin of her face, her fingers numbing with each throw of her bandalore. The frigid air sliced at her lungs and it wasn't long before she felt the remnants of her fever creep back up her neck, but the exercise was too good, too distracting, to stop so soon.

She paused for breath on an old gargoyle, her throat searing and chest heaving. She could sense Tikki's desperation to talk but her head spun and she had no idea what there was to say, anyway. There was nothing to discuss, and there certainly wasn't an underlying reason as to why her body had subconsciously brought her to the high-end business district, either.

She looked around at the office buildings in disgust, their cold metal so out of place in the stone and brick of the Paris she loved. She twirled her bandalore in her hands, the lid opening and closing, the satellite view of the city flashing and dimming beneath it. Tikki was used to her charge's spontaneous flights and knew what she wanted to do before leaving. Four years worth of habits were hard to break.

Mind empty, Ladybug flipped the lid one more time and swiped the screen, zooming in further to her current location. A maze of streets spiderwebbed her vision, so uniform and unchanged and _there was a green dot in the corner of the screen._

She stared at the small, slowly pulsating light. Her entire body was cold, her pulse thrumming painfully in her veins. Her eyes couldn't blink, her lungs couldn't inhale. The light winked at her.

She practically fell off her perch to get away, her cord just managing to latch onto something in time to save her from plummeting to the street. The building opposite from where she'd been sitting, the one that the dot was emanating from, faded into the distance, the neon green light spelling _Agreste_ disappearing in a flurry of snow.

…

When Marinette was finally able to regain rational thought about 20 minutes later, she really didn't know what she had expected. Of course Adrien would be in the building _that he owned,_ how had that even surprised her? Maybe it was simply because she'd always gone there in the hope that he'd be there, and when he actually was after four years she just hadn't been able to comprehend it? Tikki agreed with her.

"Maybe now that we're back in Paris, back in familiar territory, you finally completely processed his return and just didn't know what you wanted to do about it?" the Kwami suggested, her hand on Marinette's knee as the girl sat on her bed, legs drawn up and staring at the wall blankly. She nodded mechanically in agreement and Tikki decided to push her a bit, hoping it would help the girl organize her thoughts.

"So…what _do_ you want to do about it?" Marinette blinked at the question and Tikki could almost see the cogs of her brain slowly starting to work again.

"Tikki…" her breath shook so she restarted, "Tikki, he doesn't _want_ to be Chat Noir, you said so yourself. He left me, with no _actual_ reason, and you saw the way he acted all weekend, there's no way he wants to be _friends_ or _anything."_

"Didn't he say he left because he thought you didn't need him anymore?" Tikki shot back, head tilting.

Marinette shook her head with a sneer, "That wasn't the real reason. He'd never thought I needed him but he'd always stuck around being an annoying-ass alley cat anyway. There's no way he left just because of that. There had to have been another reason." She chewed her thumbnail, thinking.

"But didn't he look after you when you were injured, and sick, and carry you to bed _even though you puked on him,_ and drive you home, and make you soup, and – "

"Tikki! I don't know what motivates him to do what he does! I never have!" Marinette fell back to her bed, hands over her face in exasperation.

"Marinette!" Marinette raised her hands questioningly and was suddenly assaulted by two tiny paws on either side of her mouth, squishing her cheeks and eliciting fish lips.

" _WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO ABOUT IT?!"_ Tikki yelled, eyes huge and daring and Marinette was empowered by that gaze, her heartbeat hammering as the beginning of adrenaline traveled her veins.

"I…I want to – " her phone beeped, a news alert flashing in the notifications.

"I…am going to go deal with that and get back to this later," she concluded and Tikki sighed dramatically, begrudgingly melting into the earrings and the two of them swung away to once again save the city.

…

It had been years since Adrien had been in France, yet he remembered the streets like the back of his hand (he hadn't had much to do besides look out the window as he was chauffeured around, after all).

It was different, of course, now that he could drive himself. Some of the landmarks had changed as well, gentrification running rampant across some of the older parts of town.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the point of his lunch break to start with, and he suddenly realized where he'd automatically been driving to.

The old Dupain-Cheng bakery looked as inviting as ever, but it had a new sign painted above its doors and he realized with a pang that it now had new owners.

 _But of course,_ he scolded himself _, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng told you so herself at the wedding._

He tried not to remember what else she had told him.

He settled on a croque-monsieur from a café he used to frequent, then returned to the office. His father's old desk was just as intimidating as he remembered and he'd all-too-soon discovered where Gabriel Agreste had gotten his unnaturally straight back from. The chair, and job, left no room for slouching.

Floor length windows bordered the space and he gazed out of the frosting glass, watching idly as snow accumulated on the head of a particularly ugly gargoyle on the building opposite. He caught sight of the blurred outline of his secretary approaching through the glass doors and sighed, lunch break officially over.

The remainder of his day was a conglomeration of color swatches, meetings with designers, meetings with board members, meetings with board members about hiring new designers, show venues, and a number of other things that flashed vaguely through his growing headache.

After a dinner at a needlessly expensive restaurant with a group of people Adrien couldn't remember the significance of, he was finally back in his car and growling down the snow-quietened streets . Except his finger twitched on the wheel, he couldn't settle on a radio station to listen to, and he had absolutely no desire to go back to his sterile hotel room.

He loved the city, but at night he was reminded quickly and vividly of why he'd left, and _what_ he'd left. There was just something about the scent of the night that made his limbs ache to run across a rooftop and fling himself to the next one. To hide in shadows. To do as he pleased. To be with –

He stopped his car. He was outside the bakery again.

It was fitting, he thought. Of course his body would take him here, it was engrained into his muscles, his being. He'd spent so much of his youth in the next door alley, on the opposite roof, trying to confirm his suspicions about his partner's secret identity.

 _And I was right,_ he thought smugly, although he wasn't sure what he had to be smug about anymore.

He glanced around, the deserted street staring back enticingly.

…

The fire escape wasn't quite as sturdy as he remembered it being, but it held as he made his way as quietly as he could to the roof. He moved with bated breath, fully expecting the current homeowners to hear and investigate, but all was quiet and he collapsed over the balcony, embarrassingly out of breath.

 _It's because you don't have the miraculous suit anymore, that's all,_ he told himself, _not because you're old or out of shape or –_

"You're trespassing," he startled at the all-too-familiar voice (it still haunted his dreams sometimes, after all), and whipped his head up, squinting in the shadows until he could make out a pair of blue, blue masked eyes staring back.

He straightened, "If I remember correctly, you no longer live here, either," he whispered back, fiddling with his suit sleeve in an attempt to look nonchalant as he tried desperately to get his heart rate in check. Maybe he really was getting old.

He heard the faint rustle of her suit as she shrugged, "Superhero privileges. All rooftops belong to me," she shot back and his lips twitched. He walked towards her and heard her move again, as if trying to compensate for his approaching proximity.

"Don't you look fancy," she quipped, the sarcasm being lost in the cough that followed her words. His eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the starlight and he got a proper look at her.

"And you look like shit," he replied, already shrugging out of his jacket to place it around the torn shoulders of her suit. She snorted but accepted, her exhale a cloud of scorn.

"Just a sword fight. Would've traded anything for that woman with the flamethrower again though, it's fucking cold out here," she smiled grimly and his stomach clenched, jaw tightening.

She looked up at his silence, brows furrowing, "What're you doing here, anyway?"

He looked out towards the Eiffel Tower, hands in pockets, "Was coming back from dinner, didn't feel like going to my room yet." It was a childish excuse, really, but she nodded in understanding and he thought that, out of everyone, she probably did know what he was talking about.

Against his better judgment he sat down next to her on the couch he'd frequented on many occasions, unbeknownst to her. He smiled a bit at that thought and she caught it, raising an eyebrow in response.

He leaned back, relaxing his spine after it being ramrod straight all day.

"You're gonna think this is creepy, and it is, but I used to sit here sometimes at night, back when I was trying to figure out if you were Ladybug or not," it was out before he could think better of it and he waited for the expression of disgust, the bark of ridicule. It didn't come.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye to see her staring at her knees, bottom lip between teeth.

"…I used to sit at different places around Paris and look at my GPS, look for you on it. Sometimes the old school. Sometimes your old house. Sometimes your dad's building. I was there today."

It was a far greater confession than his old schoolboy fancies and they both knew it, the weight of her words sitting heavy in the air between them. The mists of their breaths joined and dispersed and joined and dispersed as either tried to think of how to reply.

"Did it…did it work? Today, that is," he asked haltingly, awkwardly, and a bit hopefully. His mouth went dry at her answering smile.

"…It was there. A tiny green dot, no paw or anything, but it was there." His fingers subconsciously caressed the ring on his finger. Her eyes turned hard.

"Why do you care though? You heard Tikki and you said so yourself, you don't even want to be Chat Noir anymore," her voice was harsh and grated against his skin. His eyes flickered to her earrings and away again.

"…It's not that I don't want to," her eyes snapped up to his, blue to green, earth to air, and the breath was stolen from both of them as they looked, _really looked,_ at each other for the first time in four years. Had she always had so many freckles? When had he started growing facial hair? Were those bags under her eyes always so dark? Were those frown lines on his forehead always so deep?

"Then why don't you just – "

" _I can't."_ Those two words were agony, pure, unadulterated. They always had been yet he'd had to keep repeating them to himself like a mantra, constantly, constantly, otherwise he would've bottled out, given in, lost his resolve.

She leaned forwards, hands knotting in the front of his shirt, fingers twisted and needing and unrelenting, her nails intent on clawing the truth from him. His eyes were wide and haunted and _scared._ Scared she would succeed. Scared she would _know._

" _Tell. Me. Why."_ Her mouth was all snarl, inches from his own, eyes reflecting back his and the stars. The truth was threatening the corners of his lips; he could feel it oozing down the back of his throat.

" _Because…"_ it was spilling, sick and dark, trickling from his lips that were so, so close to hers.

" _Because…"_ he could feel it, one gargantuan wave swelling, ready to break against his teeth –

Her earrings beeped, the last spot disappearing. Blinding pink light swallowed the shocked look on her face.

When Marinette opened her eyes her hands were empty, and the rooftop was deserted.

* * *

 **Hahaaaaaa. Who hates me?**


	10. Past Resurfacing

**Some things answered, and even more questions.**

 **(C) I own none of the characters**

* * *

Adrien didn't get much sleep that night. In fact, he didn't get any. The darkness of the hotel room had a funny way of making him relive every moment of his past he'd rather forget in vivid detail. It had not been pretty, and it sure as hell hadn't let him sink into any sort of peaceful slumber.

It was four in the morning. There was a knock at his door.

He lurched to his feet, the morning chill seeping into his bones. A dark mass barred a portion of light from under the door, but as he reached for the handle it disappeared, his ears picking up faint footsteps retreating down the carpeted hallway.

He yanked open the door and cautiously peaked his head out, scanning the empty corridor before his eyes fell on the paper at his feet, a gash of red against the monochromatic surroundings.

His fingers left a crease on the otherwise immaculate stationary and the black ink of the words tattooed themselves into the backs of his eyes. Without a backward glance he went back into his room and entrenched himself in the bed covers, trying to warm the chill that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

There would definitely be no sleep for him tonight.

…

The prospect of work had done nothing to help pry him from the mattress when his alarm rang at a more respectable time (6AM was the hour of the working man, after all), yet he'd somehow managed to make it to work when he was supposed to with no damage done, save for the purpling circles beneath his eyes.

There was some kind of commotion in front of the office building as he mounted the steps but he ignored it, his mind on the paper stashed deep in his trouser pocket. It was only when he was jostled by the growing number of people that he looked up, following their gazes to the neon green of his last name emblazoned 30 stories above him.

His lips twitched. He'd forgotten about his jacket.

* * *

Marinette was _pissed._ Pissed that he'd pulled a stunt like that when she'd been _so close_ to finding out the truth. Pissed that her fingers that had been clenched in his shirt had still felt the remnants of his body heat hours later. Pissed that she'd had to get up extra early to swing around Paris and scale the side of a building in order to leave _his goddamn jacket_ hanging from the "A" in "Agreste" to symbolize what a complete _asshole_ he was. She hoped he understood the meaning behind it.

She was currently seated at one of the cafes next to the college after classes, her leg jiggling and fingers mutilating a sandwich, teeth gritted in frustration. That was how Nathanael found her, eyebrows raised in amusement but eyes widened in concern. He took the seat opposite her, face questioning, but she shook her head, too riled up to talk about it.

He hummed a note and pulled out a sketchbook, head buried in his drawings as she took the time to actively calm down. She glanced over at his work, intending to take her mind off things, when the abnormal amount of red and black spots had her leaning across the table, all anger forgotten.

"A Ladybug comic?" she blurted out in surprise, attempting to read each panel upside down and find out what comic-her was currently yelling to a man with some kind of strangely-patterned black and pink outfit. Whatever it was, neither of them seemed too happy about it.

Nathanael smiled up at her in embarrassment, a faint blush dusting the tops of his cheeks.

"Ah, yeah…it's something I started back in highschool and just sort of kept going with…it's actually pretty popular online," the last comment made him blink at his own forwardness and she smiled encouragingly – why shouldn't he be proud of his work? From what she could see it was pretty amazing.

"Hey, an online following's nothing to sneeze at. I _wish_ I could get people to follow my blog. Maybe then I'd actually have people buy my stuff," she pursed her lips at her incompetence at being a designer.

His response was outraged, "I'm sure just not enough people know about it! I could advertise it on my website…if you want…" the blush was back in full-force, reaching his ears and melting into the red of his hair. Her heart clenched a little at the sight and she just couldn't believe how endearing and selfless he was – how was it that she deserved someone like him as a friend, again? _Were_ they even friends? They'd only reconnected at the wedding, after all, and they hadn't been that close as teenagers. Either way, she liked to think of him as someone she wouldn't mind spending time with. The fact that he'd sat down with her seemed to suggest the same from his end.

"I mean, if you want to then that would be amazing! You'll have to send me the link too, so I can read your comic."

He scratched the back of his head, not meeting her eyes, "I'm not sure if you'll like it at all, there're definitely parts that I hate and wish I could redo, but yeah, sure, if you want."

She nodded, "I do."

He smiled in response and they sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the sunlight reflect off the drifts of snow on people's roofs. Her mind wandered and it wasn't long before it thought of Adrien again and her fingers tapped the table, teeth chewing the inside of her mouth.

Nathanael watched as her eyes narrowed, eyebrows drifting downwards, and he couldn't help but hate the look of annoyance on her.

"…Are you going home soon? We could walk together, if you like," he suggested, packing his sketchbook away in his bag. She looked up, seemingly surprised that he was still there, and nodded in agreement. Her body needed to be moving, doing something, instead of just sitting and stewing in fury.

The wind was brisk but pleasant coupled with the sun and they walked quietly towards the metro, enjoying the weather. Every time they turned a corner he would accidently run into her a little and instantly apologize, but she didn't mind and laughed inwardly at how clumsy and shy he was, reminding her a little of her old self, back before she'd had to bury it.

"Don't you live that way?" she asked as they got off the train and he'd stayed with her.

"I don't know what you mean, I've always lived this way," he replied, a smile dancing around his lips.

She huffed, "Nathanael, I literally dropped you off at your apartment the other night. I _know_ you don't live this way."

He laughed, the sound pure and fragile and completely surprising her with its vulnerability. Had she ever heard him laugh before? She was sure she would've remembered it.

He didn't reply and she rolled her eyes, secretly glad for the company. She didn't feel like being left alone with her thoughts quite yet.

The decimated Agreste manor rose on their right and Marinette subconsciously faltered, remembering the car heater burning through her sweater and Adrien's face and the low thrum of the engine and the streetlight that had washed the life from his eyes.

Nathanael followed her gaze, "Ah. This place is a pretty reoccurring background in my comic, there's nothing like an old ruined mansion to really set the mood for a fight. And I have my own theories about the place, of course."

She turned to him, mouth dry, "Such as?"

"Well," he stopped and looked at the empty shell of the foundation through the fence, eyes thoughtful but with a darkness behind the blue, and suddenly Marinette wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he said next.

He pointed to a particularly large piece of marble, the bottom blackened and burnt, "look closer at the corroded part at the bottom. Now follow it around to all the other large pieces. They all have it, right?"

She nodded in agreement, not understanding.

"Focus on the darker parts. What do they remind you of?" His face was bright with conspiracy, intently watching hers as she tried to figure out what he was implying.

She squinted, face scrunched, at the darker striations running parallel along the rock. There were four of them, all uniform and almost like they were gouged into it, almost like –

She felt the color drain from her face and her hands go cold. Nathanael's lips hardened into a line as her understanding became apparent.

"Like claw marks, right?"

No.

"And what old superhero of Paris do we know that had this much, and particular style, of destructive power?"

 _No._

"And who mysteriously vanished the night the house was destroyed, never seen or heard from again?"

 _NO._

His face was grim, "I guess no one ever realized just how powerful Chat Noir was – if he could destroy an entire building, I wonder what else he was capable of – Marinette? MARINETTE?!"

She let his last yell echo as she ran, her ears ringing and sight tunneling and breaths wrenching from her lungs. She felt bile rising in her throat and suddenly she was through her front door, the old white paint flaking off on her fingers and she clenched and unclenched her hands, watching as the chips broke into smaller and smaller pieces in her palms.

Tikki fought her way from the bag and floated in front of Marinette's face, her eyes just as shocked and starving and shattered.

Because it didn't make any sense. Chat Noir destroyed the Agreste manor. Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

 _Why would Adrien destroy his own home?_

Because the more she had looked the truer it had been. And the terrifying part was that _she had known._ How many years had she fought alongside him? How many times had she told him to use that power of his? Of course she knew what its destruction looked like. She just hadn't allowed herself to connect the two things, hadn't been able to face it.

She sank to the tile, her hands clenching and unclenching and breaking and not breaking and _destroying destroying destroying._

* * *

Adrien stopped his car and cut the engine, listening as the deep rumble chocked and faded to silence. This particular district of Paris was not one he had visited often, if at all, in his youth. The houses that lined the road were historic and creaking and newly renovated but still exuding a sense of time, if not pride, and _where the hell are you even going with this Adrien just get out of the car already, merde._

His pulse was in his throat as he climbed the steps to the front door, the black of the paint reflecting back a distorted image of himself that he thought was pretty accurate to how he currently felt. His knuckles scraped the gloss twice and his heart pounded in time with the footsteps from behind the door, growing louder as they drew nearer. The door opened.

"Natalie." Adrien greeted, looking down at the old secretary. Her glasses flashed but her clothes were casual and hair unbound, the red streak amidst the black glimmering in the fading light.

"It's been a while, Adrien. I trust you got my letter?" He patted his pocket in confirmation and she smiled before leading him into the hallway.

"Notes are rather macabre; you realize you can just text me, right?" He teased, apprehension mounting with each step towards the living room.

"Ah, but where's the sense of mystery in that?" she shot back, this smile not fully reaching her eyes. She stopped, gesturing for him to continue by himself. He nodded, striding forwards before he could think better of it. He entered the living room.

"Ah, Adrien," said Gabriel Agreste, "what a pleasant surprise."

* * *

 **Ohhh shhiiitttt**


	11. Blue

**Happy early xmas/holidays/everything yo. Here's the next chap, and as always it answers some questions, creates even more questions, and screws you over at the end. Enjoy~**

 **(C) I own none of the characters.**

* * *

" _Father_ ," Adrien ground out, those two syllables dragging with them endless memories better forgotten. The echoing of an empty room. The impossible length of an unoccupied dinner table.

"It's been so long, I'd almost wondered if you thought me dead," his father's lips were as cruel as he remembered, disdain turning up the corners and continuing to those flat blue eyes.

"You might as well be," Adrien replied tonelessly, his gaze traveling from his father's impeccable suit to the blanket spread across his knees and the chair that seemed to swallow the very small frame of a once very large man.

"To the rest of the world, I am. You made sure of that, _my son_ ," the quirk of his mouth suggested that it wasn't his fake death that he found amusing, but rather the thought that Adrien was his flesh and blood, and he made sure Adrien knew it.

Adrien left the room and sought out Natalie, trying to not let his ears burn with shame at himself for what his father had become, and shame for his father for the reasons he was like that in the first place.

"He was as pleasant as ever, I take it?" Natalie quipped as he sat down at the dining room table opposite her, her eyes detaching themselves from her laptop to shoot him a sarcastic look. He scrubbed a hand over his face, slumping forward over the aged wood. His gaze swept the room, noting everything that hadn't changed since the last time he'd been there four years before. The color scheme was the same. The chandelier was the same. The framed portraits of women ranging from pictures of hieroglyphs to sketched portraits to grainy black and whites to full-color photos that lined every inch of wall space were definitely the same.

"I know you said he was weak, I don't know why I was as surprised as I was to actually see him like that. I suppose in all of my memories he was this looming presence, so huge and intimidating, and now that I've seen what he looks like now it's gonna take some getting used to."

Natalie nodded in understanding and typed a few more words before closing her computer and folding her hands under her chin, watching him intently.

"So…I was surprised to get your message that you were going to be in town. What brought this on, if you don't mind me asking?"

Adrien hesitated for a second, his hands clenching on top of the table. With a sigh he closed his eyes and twisted the ring from his finger, holding it out to her and feeling when she took it tentatively from his fingers. He heard her faint intake of breath and forced his eyes open, not letting himself hide from his mistakes.

"Adrien…what…where…?"

"Plagg's inside the ring. It happened about a month after I left. I didn't contact you about it because I figured it was just a temporary thing…but then years passed and I realized he wasn't coming out and I was too ashamed to face you and I just…" he trailed off and she brushed the black surface of the ring with a finger, her eyes so full of sorrow that he could hardly look at her.

"Do you have any idea why…?" she whispered, still looking at the obsidian face.

"One," he replied, and his tone made her finally look up, her pupils glazed with a million thoughts and a million memories all playing in succession behind her eyelids.

"And that's actually one of the things I want to talk to you about," he pointed to the portraits, finger stabbing the air in the direction of the last photo, the one that featured Natalie with black studded earrings, the red streak in her hair shining in the sunlight.

"I know who the new Ladybug is."

* * *

Marinette was on a mission.

It wasn't any different from her regular mission of figuring out what the hell Adrien was thinking per se, except now it had reached a larger scope because she'd been forced to get Alya and Nino involved in order to find out where the hell Adrien was staying. Except she'd hung up before she'd gotten an answer because all their laughing and mocking had been too damn much and _now she was_ _forced to wait outside his building in the snow for him to emerge so she could stalk him and find an opportune time to kidnap him and get some fucking answers._

She was beyond cold and the gargoyle she was sitting on had gotten uncomfortable 3 hours ago. She was pretty sure her suit was stuck to the stone in some places and there were icicles in her hair from frozen sweat, but she didn't let herself leave, the view of the doors to the building was just too good.

Finally, he emerged at 9:42PM, the familiar golden hair visible even from her height. She exhaled with relief, willing her body into motion as she shook off snow and propelled after his car.

15 minutes later she was hidden in an alcove in the building opposite one of the most expensive hotels in the city, and she couldn't help but kick herself for not just assuming he'd be in this one in the first place. Or just using her GPS to track him at night. She would've saved herself the pneumonia, at least.

She watched as Adrien entered the golden revolving doors and smacked herself in the face as her plan was already foiled so early on. _She had no idea which room he was staying in._

 _Well,_ she concluded, _I'll just have to find out, won't I?_

Two minutes later one Marinette Dupain-Cheng entered the hotel.

Her outfit was admittedly not her best, and she couldn't help but feel underdressed compared to the other guests and the film of gold that coated _everything._

She quickly hurried towards the elevator, brain calculating as she watched the numbers at the top descend. He'd only been in there about four minutes max, the elevator was on its way down, meaning that his room was on the first couple of floors. If she went one by one, finding a place to transform quickly so she could use the GPS each time, then –

The elevator tinged and opened, revealing Adrien Agreste leaning against a wall and half of his mouth tilted in a cat-like smirk, eyebrow raised. Her face was instantly unamused. She got in the elevator.

"How did you know I was following you," she monotoned, refusing to look anywhere near his direction.

"Please," he scoffed, "we worked together how many years? I could practically feel your eyes glaring at me." When she said nothing back he added, "Also, that gargoyle you were sitting on is literally right opposite my office window. Hope that didn't make you sick, again. You were out there for a while."

He tried not to laugh at the sound of her teeth grinding in anger. "If you knew then why didn't you say anything and save me the trouble?" she spat and he put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels in mock thought.

"Well, I mean, it was kind of flattering, you know? I didn't want to ruin it."

She had to physically restrain herself from strangling him right that second.

It was then that she noticed the lit up floor number and tried to hide her surprise, but unfortunately wasn't quick enough.

"I'm on the top floor, by the way. You probably had some plan about going floor to floor and checking the GPS at every one, so I decided to save you the time. I didn't want to have to wait up for you, either."

Her hands clenched, veins popping, as the doors opened and he gestured for her to follow him out into the lavishly carpeted hallway. They stopped outside the huge double doors of the penthouse suite and she was suddenly nervous, her mind shutting down and having a hard time remembering just what it was she wanted to confront him about. This was his domain, and she wasn't as prepared as she thought she was. He opened the doors.

The living room was thoroughly ornamented with expensive grey and champagne fabrics, silver accenting everything. He nodded his head for her to take a seat on one of the plush couches and she complied, her discomfort giving way to obedience. She'd never been in a place so grand, and was completely out of her element.

"Drink?" Adrien asked from the small bar by the window and she nodded, throat dry. He poured a thick amber liquid from a crystal decanter and walked back to her, placing the glass in her hands before seating himself opposite, face tense.

"I'm sure you're here because of the other night. Thank you for returning my jacket, by the way. It took a pair of window washers to retrieve it, in case you're interested." He started and the muscle in her neck twitched as memory of the night in question came back and the anger and indignation oiled her brain, rendering it functional again.

Her hand clawed around the glass, fingers digging into the cut crystal as a snarl tore free of her lips.

"How _dare_ you pull a stunt like tha – "

"Marinette."

His face was suddenly very close to hers, his green eyes steady and the dim lighting of the lamps mixing strangely with the color. Her mouth shut with an audible _click,_ as she found all the words had been wrenched from her lips.

"Marinette," he began again, voice begging her to listen, to understand, "it's my secret. If I could tell you I would, but I can't, not right now. There are too many elements that need to come into play first before you can know, but I promise, no – look at me," he gently grasped her face on either side, coaxing her to face him from where she'd turned her head. Her eyes opened reluctantly and sought his again, hurt and mistrust and _wanting to trust_ in their depths.

"Listen to me, I _promise_ I will tell you _as soon as possible_ , ok?" His thumb stroked her cheekbone, her eyes fluttering slightly at the contact.

"That's all I can give you right now, meager promises. I just hope you can trust me and my reasons for doing things. Always know that all my decisions are with your best interests in mind, you have to know that. Please Marinette, say you believe me. Please." His eyes were glossy and she drew a rattling sob, her head tilting in the slightest of nods. Because she did believe him. She could see how much pain this secret caused him, and her partner had never led her astray.

"That still doesn't make up for, or explain _anything_ ," she breathed and he blinked at her proximity; he could count each freckle individually if he'd wanted to.

" _But_ – "

Their noses were almost touching now.

" _I – "_

She could taste the liquor on his breath.

" _Do – "_

His stubble scraped her cheek.

" _Trust – "_

Their eyelashes tangled with each blink.

" _You_."

Their lips met in a calamity of supple skin and razor teeth, equally a kiss as well as a feeding, both _taking and taking and taking_. Strings pierced their limbs, their bodies puppets to their deepest desires. Fevered nails raked scalps raw and canines were relentless on fragile collarbones and suddenly the bed loomed beneath them and silk sheets had nothing on the smooth ridges of his abdomen, the satin swell of her breasts.

The snow outside was a distant memory because every touch was searing and _surely someone would notice that the upper floor was on fire_ and every cry and moan added to the humidity of the air that dripped down their bodies and condensed on their skin. Everything was wet and messy and aching and _oh God just how they'd imagined_ and neither was kind and neither was relenting and the line between pleasure and pain had vanished and _hadn't they always been one in the same, anyway?_

Their finals cries were grating and animalistic and ran their throats raw and they stared at each other and stared at each other and stared at each other and caressed each mark, kissed each bruise, licked each scratch, nipped each gouge, and _bit and bit and bit._

They lay there, chests heaving, limbs trembling, lips bruised and bleeding, eyes wild. The moonlight washed everything cobalt and the shadows cast masks across their faces, making them the heroes of the city once more, and everything was bitter and sweet and blue all at once and neither of them said anything, and neither of them looked away.

…

Adrien woke to an empty bed, and when he dressed for work his mind was occupied and he didn't notice the absence of the black and red note from his pocket. Ladybug was too good at leaving without a trace for that.

* * *

 **...yup.**


	12. House With The Black Door

**A bit of regret and the return of an old classmate~**

 **(C) I own none of the characters.**

* * *

"Mr. Agreste?"

"Mr. Agreste?"

" _Mr. Agreste?_ "

Adrien startled, his mind clearing from the haze of lingering touches and blue shadows as he turned to his secretary, his hand subconsciously adjusting his shirt collar over a purpling bruise on his neck.

"Sorry Clemence, you were saying?" he made sure to pay attention as she read his itinerary for the day to him, and actively pinched himself every time his mind started to stray back to the events of last night. At the flash of a memory his pulse would quicken and neck flush, the pads of his fingers feeling the ghost of her skin beneath them.

He hadn't been able to contain his disappointment at her absence that morning, and tried not to think about what the implications of it could mean. Either way, he'd left the window unlocked should she wish to return.

He'd caught himself fiddling with his phone multiple times throughout the day, and had had to remind himself he didn't even know her number even if he did want to call.

He did, however, know where she lived.

* * *

Marinette stood in front of her bathroom mirror, her hair wet and curling around her shoulders. She traced her reflection, noting every mark, every bruise on her body. Despite the blemishes her skin looked brighter than it ever had, her eyes alive and less sunken, her hands less claw-like.

"…Do you want to talk about it?"

Marinette begrudgingly looked down at Tikki perched on the counter next to her, arms crossed and face demanding an explanation.

"Tikki… _I don't know_ …I was sort of planning on finding his room, then waiting for him to fall asleep or something before breaking in and looking through his stuff…But then he was there and we were sitting pretty close and it was obvious he wasn't going to tell me anything and I suddenly remembered those spy movies we watched where the women used their feminine wiles to seduce men and get information and I was thinking on the spot and suddenly we were on the bed and I just… _I don't know._ "

Tikki hummed tunelessly and lifted up the red piece of paper to eye level, reading it for the fifth time.

"At least it wasn't for nothing, I suppose. Are you going to go?"

Marinette frowned, mouth setting, "We're leaving in five."

…

The surrounding townhouses were ones Marinette had visited often in her youth (her primary school had been right around the corner) and it gave her a strange sense of trepidation that her unsavory actions had led her there. She double checked the address on the note for the last time, looking between the paper and the golden number on the shiny black door. She inhaled and knocked.

"Back again are you – " Gabriel Agreste's old secretary…Natalie, if she remembered correctly, looked down at her in surprise, that surprise quickly turning to suspicion.

"My apologies, I thought you were someone else. Is there anything I can help you with…?"

Marinette hid her shock and plastered on a smile, "Sorry, I'm Marinette, I was just wondering if…Adrien…was here?" she finished lamely, mentally kicking herself for not coming up with a better lie.

"Marinette…?" Natalie's eyes were wide and Marinette didn't miss their quick flicker to her earrings and back, a smile pinching the corners of her mouth.

"…Why don't you come in?" she stepped around an umbrella stand and retreated down the hall before Marinette could give an answer and with a shrug she followed. Maybe she was going to get some answers here, after all.

She was led to what appeared to be a dining room, the walls plastered with various portraits. Her eyes narrowed at them, something stirring in the back of her mind.

"I'll go make some tea. Sit down, if you like," Natalie left and Marinette inspected the photos closer. They all seemed to be from different eras, all with different nationalities and states of dress. She felt Tikki trying to get out of her purse and made sure the coast was clear before freeing her, watching as she flitted around to each frame, eyes wide.

"Marinette…Marinette it's all the past Ladybugs! Oh look, it's Akila! And Talia! Neva! Sophie! And – " she looked at the last picture, then back at Marinette guiltily, "…and Natalie."

The last photo was indeed of Natalie, and for some reason Marinette didn't feel surprised. The glance at her earrings made a lot more sense now.

"Would you like milk or sugar?" Natalie reentered the room carrying a serving tray and stopped dead at the sight of Marinette and Tikki standing in the center looking back at her. Without a word she placed the tray on the table and gestured for Marinette to sit down opposite her. Hesitantly, Marinette slid into the chair, never taking her eyes off of the old secretary.

Natalie smiled down at Tikki, "It's been a while, old friend." Tikki smiled tentatively from Marinette's shoulder.

"How long have you known about me?" Marinette asked, voice calm and hands cupped around her mug of tea.

Natalie tilted her head, the red streak in her hair catching the light, "About a day now? Although, I did have my suspicions. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Marinette pulled out the note and pushed it to her across the table, "I…acquired this and thought whoever lived here may be able to answer some questions. I see I may be right in thinking that."

Natalie took a sip of her tea, a smirk lingering around her lips, "You may be. I do rather think I may have stirred up even more questions though, am I right?"

Marinette held back a smile, "You may be. Now, let's get to business. I assume you… _know_ about Adrien, am I correct?"

"About how he used to be Chat Noir? Yes."

Marinette nodded, "If you don't mind me asking, do you know why he left Paris four years ago? He refuses to tell me and I…need to know," she finished in almost a whisper, her emotions betraying her. Natalie's eyes softened.

"I'm not sure he wants me to tell –"

" _Please_ , Natalie. I want to understand him, I want to know his thoughts behind everything he's done, I want my partner –" she broke off, not allowing herself to continue and unable to look Natalie in the eye. Natalie's resolve wavered.

She leant forward, her voice low, "I can tell you this – I want Adrien to go back to it probably as much as you do. He's miserable as he is now and he's punishing himself for something that had to be done. He's denying who he really is, and no one should have to do that." She paused, eyes unfocussed for a second before snapping back to Marinette's.

"There is something you, and probably only you, can do though. You defeated Hawkmoth, yes, but his kwami escaped. After you told him about the villains you've been having to fight these last couple of years, Adrien got suspicious and called me while you were snowed-in in the country. He asked me to look in to it to see if any of them were connected. I ended up finding something interesting."

Marinette's mind was spinning, "Wait – Hawkmoth had a kwami?!" She hadn't seen one anywhere when Chat had defeated Hawkmoth with his cataclysm. Did it escape when the building collapsed and they'd had to leave Hawkmoth's body?

Natalie looked at her patiently, "Yes. Kwamis are capable of being twisted into the tools of evil. Not every Ladybug or Chat Noir has been good." Marinette looked around at the portraits, wondering which ones had succumbed to evil. A chill caressed her spine at the thought.

"…And what did you find? How were they connected?"

Natalie put down her cup, "It turns out they had all visited the same office building where a certain old classmate of yours works as a receptionist."

Marinette tilted her head, thinking. She had many old classmates, most of which she no longer kept in touch with. There was, however, one that she knew worked in that line of work. The loss of her family's wealth due to mysterious circumstances had been tabloid fodder for a good couple of months. There was just something about the decline of the rich that the papers loved.

"You don't mean…" Marinette began, face incredulous.

Natalie nodded, "Chloé Bourgeois."

…

"Thank you for the tea, and the information. I'll go check it out and see if I see anything suspicious," Marinette fiddled with her purse as she stood on the doorstep once again, reluctant to leave her predecessor but really needing to get started on the case.

"Remember, Adrien's flight leaves in a week after the fall show is over. Maybe if you rescue the pink kwami by then he'll reconsider."

Marinette nodded determinedly, "I'll get it done…and Natalie? Why has Adrien involved you in all of this? If you don't mind me asking."

Natalie smiled warmly, "Let's just say I'm looking after something very important to him. Also, feel free to come back any time; we have a lot more to talk about!"

Marinette waved from the end of the stairs. The second the door closed the smile disappeared from her face. Tikki popped her head out of the purse, brows furrowed.

"You saw it too, right?" Marinette questioned, eyes hard. Tikki nodded.

The umbrella stand by the door had held precisely two umbrellas, as well as an old cane that had looked just a little too familiar for comfort.

* * *

Adrien sat on the bed in his hotel room. The maid had changed the sheets and remade it perfectly, and he couldn't help but resent her a bit for it – he'd wanted to lay there and relive it all and soak in Marinette's scent just a bit longer.

Work had been more tiring than usual but still he was restless, his fingers beating an uneven tempo on the mattress as he imagined, once again, going to her apartment. Surely there was a reason she hadn't come by by now? He desperately wanted to talk (and _not_ talk) with her, but what if she didn't want to see him? What if she…and it physically pained him to think this…but _what if she hadn't enjoyed last night as much as he had?_ The thought alone sent a nervous panic through his body, and it was this panic that forced him up, unable to take it any longer and just needing to _ask her_.

He threw open his door and stopped dead.

"Adrien, _darling_ , I can't _believe_ you didn't tell me you were in town! Let's go to dinner."

And that was how Adrien Agreste was reminded once again of just how persuasive Chloé Bourgeois could be.

* * *

 **It's the return of the biittcchhh**


	13. Wishes

**There's some non-consensual drug use and unconventional themes in this one. You have been warned.**

 **(c) I own none of the characters**

* * *

Ladybug was livid.

Following Chloé hadn't been difficult; she just hadn't expected in her wildest imagination that she would enter a certain hotel, then exit with a certain person in tow. Or how that certain person was perhaps the one person in the world she didn't feel like seeing right then. Or how the two blonds were currently sitting opposite each other in one of the most romantic restaurants in the city. Or how that romantic restaurant _was one that revolved, causing her to have to circle the surrounding buildings in order to keep them in sight._

Ladybug was _livid._

She messed with her bandalore, flipping it open and closed as she eyed the couple, watching as Chloé draped herself over him, laughing too loud and forcefully fluttering her eyelashes. It really wasn't any different from how she'd treated him in highschool, what was different was him. He deftly evaded all of her advances, his face hard and humorless as he sipped his espresso. Ladybug was reminded again of how he'd changed since leaving, how he wore his father's face for the world. Natalie was right – it didn't look good on him.

* * *

" – and now they're married. _Married_. Like, I knew there were rumors in highschool and how they were _'best friends'_ and all, and I totally always expected, and I guess it's _legal_ now, but _honestly_ – "

"Chloé, get to the point of why you dragged me here, I have something to do," Adrien cut her off, patience waning at the thought of losing time with Marinette. Chloé pursed her lips, clearly not used to being cut off mid-sentence, especially not during such a juicy piece of gossip. She changed tactics and leant further across the table, her breasts propped up on the wood and narrowly avoiding the sugar bowl.

"Oh come on Adrien, _darling,_ we haven't seen each other in _years_! I was sure you'd want to catch up, what with how _close_ we used to be and all," she advanced further, her hand traveling the length of his forearm.

"I'm just looking to rekindle that relationship, is all…and maybe become even _closer_ than before…" Under the table her knee was closing in on a certain area of his anatomy and Adrien abruptly stood with a look of disgust, skin crawling. It was only Chloé's raised eyebrow and Natalie's words echoing in the back of his mind that forced him to sit back down, expression smoothing back to neutral, and then to something else.

He rested an elbow on the table and fitted his jawbone to his knuckles, the nail of his pinky finger slowly tracing the curve of his lips. Chloé's attention immediately snapped to the movement, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth.

"…You're right, it has been rather a long time. Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere a bit more…" he looked around languidly before glancing at her from the corner of his eye, "… _private?"_

Adrien didn't think he'd ever seen someone stand up quite so fast in his life.

* * *

Marinette lay on her bed, idly watching a moth flutter around the dim ceiling light. She'd followed them all the way back to his hotel, had watched as she'd clung to him and he'd let her, had seen all the suggestive smiles and whispered words, and as they'd entered through the revolving doors into that golden lobby she finally decided that she really didn't need to see any more.

The moth fluttered. Her phone beeped.

It was Nathanael with a link to his comic and a request for the link to her online store so he could advertise it. Needing any sort of distraction she clicked the link and started to read.

Three hours later she lay there staring at the last updated page. The artwork had been high-quality, but it wasn't the reason she'd read the entire thing in one sitting. Tikki, who had been reading over her shoulder, stared at her with wide eyes.

"Marinette…this is…" Marinette nodded wordlessly. The comic had featured a highschool girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to her, who also fought crime as Ladybug along with her partner, Chat Noir. Marinette had seen plenty of comics and fanart dedicated to her alter ego, so that hadn't been the surprising part. What had caught her off-guard was the _accuracy._ Nathanael had started this comic back when they had been in highschool and he'd _known_. He'd known their secret identities (comic-her had sat behind the civilian form of Chat Noir that was so obviously Adrien), he'd known about their relationship (which was so much weirder and unconventional and heartbreaking when put down on paper). Comic-Chat Noir had left after their final showdown, destroying Hawkmoth's lair in the process, the villain's body falling in the destruction, never found. Comic-Adrien gone the next day. Comic-her's downwards spiral, the days absent from school, the loss of her spots, how she learned how to use a knife.

What was different was that the comic also featured another character, one that was always present in the background but never really front and center. He had almost no lines and she'd read the entire thing twice to make sure that he had indeed been there from the beginning. He was always behind comic-her, always watching, always picking up and returning her pencils whenever she dropped them, always saving her a spot in line when she went to the cafeteria. _Always transforming and secretly helping her during fights from the background after Chat left._

She stared at the character; it was the one Nathanael had been drawing at the café the other day, the one with the strange black and pink outfit. The one that looked suspiciously familiar.

Her phone beeped, the news app reporting a disturbance outside of a butcher's shop.

Ladybug was on the scene three minutes later and two minutes after that the moth on the ceiling was finally able to escape the room out the open window.

* * *

"Oh Adrien, I knew this hotel was fancy, but _wow_ ," Chloé sampled the wine again, lips smacking appreciatively. Adrien followed suit, finding it a bit too tart for his taste.

They were reclining on the couch in his suite, half a bottle of wine gone and the bright Parisian lights playing off of their glasses in an agreeable way and Adrien tried to ignore how she was sitting just a bit too close for comfort. He needed to get answers to Natalie's suspicions and he needed to do it tonight so he could focus on Marinette. He just wished he knew how to go about it. He stifled a yawn.

"…So, how's your…father doing?" he began awkwardly, watching as her face darkened and immediately wishing he could take the words back.

"Daddy's still busy with the investigation of course, for some reason finding the _thief_ that stole our money is taking longer than it should. I'm _tired_ of not having money Adrien, I'm _tired_ of working, someone as gorgeous as me shouldn't have a _job_ , it's _unnatural_." Adrien had to work to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He placed what he hoped would seem like a comforting hand on her knee.

Her eyes darkened and she moved closer at his touch, moving her leg so his hand slid up her thigh. He went to remove it but she slapped a hand over his, keeping it there. He smirked.

" _Enough talk_ ," she whispered, alcohol thick on her breath and her lips brushing his ear.

"What do you plan to do instead, then?" he asked back, his voice slurring as she pushed against him, her nose trailing down his neck.

" _I can think of a few things…"_ she breathed and trailed heated kissed across his collarbone.

" _Let's go to the bed_ ," she purred and suddenly he was being dragged to the bedroom behind her, legs giving out as he hit the covers.

 _Marinette…_

Her name was his only thought as he felt his shirt being yanked off, a cold nail trailing down his abdomen.

 _Marinette…_

He felt a mouth on his that wasn't hers and foreign eyes looked down at him, malice on their lips.

 _"Oh Adrien, darling, did you think I wouldn't know? This is your punishment for the things you did, you and that father of yours."_

 _Marinette…_

 _…I'm sorry I let her defile these lips you kissed in order to get some answers._

He grabbed Chloé's arm from where she was trying to undo his belt. She looked up, surprised, as he sat up, eyes clear and blank.

"So that's what this is about. I thought so," he found his shirt and began rebuttoning it as she stared at him, slack-jawed and uncomprehending.

"Next time you try to drug someone, be a bit more inconspicuous about it, would you? You can sleep here tonight, I don't really feel like carting your body down to a taxi. It might start some nasty rumors."

Her head dipped, eyes closing slowly as the drugs started to take effect.

"How…did you…" she sank into the mattress, bones lifeless. He leant over her and brushed her hair from her face.

"I'm a businessman, of course I watch for people putting stuff in my drink. You really need to keep a better eye on your glass, it really was too easy to switch them behind your back, _darling,_ " he mimicked, closing the door behind him.

He sat on the couch and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. So Chloé didn't have the pink kwami after all – she would've just used those powers instead of resorting to conventional means to control him. It looked like Natalie was wrong and the connection really had just been a coincidence.

He groaned in annoyance and looked down at his ring. He'd examined the footage of Ladybug's fights a few days ago, paying close attention to the attackers. None of them had had any semblance of a pink mask over their faces, and they really had just been normal people like Marinette had said. If the pink kwami wasn't behind the attacks, then what was the point of him investigating?

He thought back to Chloé's words. If she was on to him then staying in the city was getting more dangerous by the second. There was no reason for him to remain there once the fall show was over.

He got up and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

"Get me one too, would you?" He whipped around at the voice and saw Ladybug sitting in his spot on the couch, her posture relaxed and breathing calm, as if she hadn't just swung into his living room through the window he'd left open for her.

Adrien's pulse rocketed and he complied, handing her the drink while she examined the almost empty wine bottle. She drank it instead, ignoring the water.

She made a face, "Too damn tart."

He smiled, then noticed the blood on her suit, the purpling on her jaw. He felt bile rise in his throat, his hands turning to claws. She saw him looking and shrugged, holding his gaze.

She hadn't meant to go there, he could tell by the look on her face, the wavering resolve. The flicker of her eyes to his lips let him know what had overruled reason.

She licked her lips, "I would suggest we move to the bedroom, but…well…it seems you already have a guest," her sarcasm was unappreciated and he groaned, rubbing his face.

"Who uses roofies nowadays? Like, seriously?"

She snorted and stood, making her way to the window despite his protests.

"Ladybug – wait. About last night –"

She turned and held a hand up, stopping him.

"Don't think too hard about it." His stomach plummeted at her words, heart stopping.

The look on his face made her backtrack, "No, look, what I meant was don't over think it. Let it be what it was and don't ruin it by overanalyzing. I need to get back to patrol."

His voice was small, a barely-there whisper, "I wish I could –"

Her look was sharp, "Don't wish for the things you could make true by yourself, civilian. You waste wishes that way. Thanks for the drink." She leapt out the window and he watched her go, desperately repressing the longing in his heart to follow.

* * *

She didn't tell him what she had discovered that night, or why she had desperately needed to see him. She didn't tell him that she had a new partner.

Or that his name was Hawkmoth.

* * *

 **Mari's got some explaining to do...**

 **So I don't like this chapter as much, and I may go back and change some things. I also had this be a lot darker than it is, but then found I was disgusted at myself for writing it and got rid of it.**

 **Edit: I changed some parts a bit so hopefully it makes a tad more sense. I still don't like this chapter as much, that'll teach me to write with a hangover. Also, it's not letting me see or respond to any of the reviews on this chapter, so hopefully that fixes itself or I'm gonna be pissed. The next chapter will *hopefully* be better.**


	14. Betrayal

**This one actually explains some stuff. You're welcome.**

* * *

 _Three hours earlier._

Ladybug stood, the unconscious body of the man that had caused the disturbance at the butcher's shop at her feet. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. Her eyes inconspicuously swept the alley behind her, searching for any movement, any indication that there was someone there that had no right to be.

It was then that she saw it – the slight displacement of black amongst the shadows that alluded to something even darker. She let out a single, shuddering exhale, the knife in her hand digging into her palm.

With no warning she rushed at it, her knife slashing through the air just ahead of her, pinning her target to the wall by the sleeve. A millisecond later her body was barricaded against it, arm thrown across the windpipe and pressing it back to the brick, a breath choking in her ear.

" _Who are you?"_ she snarled, her teeth grazing across a collarbone encased in the same material her suit was made of, all her weight leaning on the knee she was forcing into their gut, keeping them still.

Despite everything, they weren't struggling. She felt their chest shake with laughter, "So, you actually read the comic, huh?" the voice asked and it was too familiar, too kind, too understanding. With one sentence it confirmed her suspicions while raising even more questions, and she couldn't help but feel _excitement._

She slowly dethatched herself and stood back, watched as the person leant forwards into the moonlight and looked down at her, eyes gentle.

"I had wondered, you know. If you would actually read it. I hoped you would," he smiled.

"Of course I did, you've obviously worked so hard on it," she whispered back, her eyes taking in his costume – the pink and black stripes, the mask concealing half of his face, the black, pink-tipped hair. He had no accessory, no weapon that she could see.

He hummed in consideration, "It has been rather a large project, but I had a lot of inspiration," he winked and she couldn't help but laugh, fatigue and her aching limbs finally getting to her. She knew Tikki wouldn't be able to keep up the transformation at this rate, and in the distance she picked up police sirens steadily getting louder.

She gestured to the roof, "Why don't we continue this where we won't be interrupted?"

He nodded, nodding for her to go first. They swung up onto the tile, the world so much brighter and clearer from that height.

Without a word they ran. His suit had extra built in fabric that allowed him to glide from building to building and they kept pace with each other effortlessly. He laughed and Ladybug threw back her head, eyes bright and euphoria infectious as she was finally, _finally_ not alone up there, the rest of the city sleeping around them.

They alighted in an alcove in Notre Dame, chests heaving and bodies burning, breaths clouding around their grins.

"I can't _believe_ you knew this entire time and never said _anything_ ," she gasped, eyes accusing. The smile was instantly gone from his face and his expression was uncertain and conflicting, as if that had been the topic of many internal debates.

"I thought about it. I did. But we didn't really know each other, I didn't know how you would react, I had no idea how to tell you. After a while I just kind of convinced myself that it was better if I was in the background…"

"Then what changed? Why did you show me your comic?"

He paused, looking down at his hands. "…Adrien came back. I remembered how you used to be, before he left. I want to know what happened, and I want him to come back – as I suspect you do, as well. I need your help to make that happen. You know, for the comic." He added and she nodded slowly, processing.

"…What is your power, anyway? How have you been helping me? I haven't seen or felt anything," she asked and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I…bring out the best in people," he supplied and she frowned, mind whirring.

"You…brought out the best in me? I don't get it. Your character in the comic just kind of stands there in the shadows."

He considered for a moment, "Do you remember when you first got the knife, when you were learning to use it, how horrible you were at it?"

"Yes…?"

"Didn't you ever wonder how you suddenly got better?" he prompted and she frowned, thinking back to her real life, and then also the comic. Comic-Ladybug had definitely gotten notably better after his character started showing up in the background in fight scenes.

"That was when you started following me?" she guessed and he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

She deflated, "So in reality I actually just suck at it?"

He startled, "WHAT?! No – I just, um, help you out with it a bit. Make your reflexes faster, your aim better –"

"So without you I'm basically useless?" her chest tightened, nails digging into the stone beneath her.

"I didn't say that. God – Mar- _Ladybug_ , you're so strong and brave and literally no one else could do what you do. I just –"

Her earrings beeped then and she suddenly transformed back, an exhausted kwami drifting down onto her lap.

"LOOK! I can't even keep up a transformation anymore! I can't even use –" she cut herself off and stifled a sob and his heart clenched seeing her so absolutely broken.

He reached out and gently smoothed her hand from its clawed shape, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"…Shall I take you home?" he asked quietly and she gave a jerking nod in reply. Without another word he gathered her in his arms and jumped from the building.

* * *

The trip home was a blur of lights through the tears that spilt endlessly from her eyes. She'd thought she'd worked so hard, improved so much, in order to be as independent as she was. She thought she had proved that she didn't need anyone. When her parents had told her that they were thinking about selling the bakery and moving she had encouraged them to do so. She'd ignored how small she had felt at the time, how she'd wanted more than anything for them to stay with her while she finished school, how she'd wanted to drop out and go with them, even. How she hadn't allowed herself to.

She thought about how, when Adrien left, she'd wanted to hunt him down, to scream at him, to crawl into his arms and never resurface. How weak that had made her feel, to be so dependent on someone, so vulnerable. She'd quelled all of those feelings and locked them away, never to see the light of day.

This was different, this time she felt betrayed. Betrayed by herself, as she'd deceived herself into believing that she was strong.

They entered through her bedroom window and he placed her on her bed, Tikki still curled in her hands. He turned to leave and she grabbed his sleeve, her voice croaking, "…The comic never mentions your name."

He smiled sadly, prizing her fingers delicately from his clothes and replacing them on the bed.

" _It's Hawkmoth_ ," he whispered, then disappeared back out into the night.

* * *

Marinette didn't know how long she stared up at her ceiling for. Tikki watched her silently, nibbling a cookie, eyes calculating.

"I knew it was him, too. I'd already figured as much. It's just…" she trailed off and Tikki nodded in understanding.

Ten minutes later Ladybug exited the window for the second time that night, because she was going to find out the truth, and she could think of only one way to go about it. Her ceiling was bare this time, without a moth in sight.

* * *

Ladybug lay in a gutter. Filthy water soaked her hair and skin and clothes, and she'd long stopped being able to differentiate it from the blood that oozed from multiple wounds lacing her skin. Her breaths were shallow, muscles spasming. Her attacker had run off ages ago, a petty thief she'd caught breaking into an antique store. He'd still gotten the better of her, and she was still the one that had ended up in the ditch, and now she couldn't tell the dirty water apart from the tears that streaked her face and she just lay there, unable and unwilling to get up. There was no sign of Nathanael, or _Hawkmoth_ , she chided herself. Obviously he'd turned in for the night, not expecting her to go out and find more trouble. Obviously he'd overlooked her stupidity.

And obviously what he'd said had been true. He really had been helping her. She really couldn't manage by herself.

 _What's the point of having powers if you're still useless?_ The thought tormented her, repeating and repeating and repeating itself through her mind, constricting.

She reached down painfully for her bandelore, opening it and staring at that green dot. It was still at the hotel, hadn't moved since she'd last seen Adrien and Chloé enter through its doors.

She noticed another dot then. One that was moth-shaped and originating from the building she and Adrien had dropped Nathanael off at the other night. She heaved herself from the pavement, everything aching but feet intent on their new destination.

* * *

To say Nathanael was startled to see her was an understatement. At the sight of her suddenly on his window frame, filthy and inadvertently smearing blood on the glass, he visibly gasped and rushed to the latch – an action only made funnier by the fact that he was dressed only in pink boxers. Ladybug would've laughed if she didn't feel like her ribs were bruised.

"Ladybug! What the hell happened?! I thought you were going to sleep! I wouldn't have –"

" _You were right_ ," she gasped out, throat raw. He tried to help her inside but she refused, teetering dangerously on the ledge.

"We don't have time for that – come in and I'll help you –"

"Nathanael," her voice was calm and she gripped both sides of his face, his body motionless under her gaze.

"Nathanael, you were right. I can't do this by myself. I need you."

He blinked, "What are you saying…?"

She inhaled shakily, "I'm saying that we should be partners. Ladybug and…Hawkmoth should be partners."

The sentence was poison on her tongue, thick, congealing. She knew that truthfully he wasn't the same Hawkmoth, wasn't the villain, wasn't her nemesis. She knew the prejudice would be difficult to overcome. But she also knew it was necessary. Necessary for their survival, and necessary to get their Chat Noir back.

* * *

Later, after she'd visited Adrien in his room with Chloé passed out on his bed, she sat on the roof of her old bakery for a while, thinking.

She thought about a lot of things, about how they would get Chat back. About how they would convince him to tell them the truth about what happened. About how she was going to visit Natalie in the morning.

But she mostly thought about Nathanael, and about how she planned to betray him.

* * *

 **Sorry for the Ladybug-only POV, but I felt like this was a good stopping point, and now everything's caught up time-wise.**

 **And if anyone wants to kinda imagine what Nath's outfit looks like, google a Private Hawk-moth. It's cute and pink and I figured the "Private" part kinda suited him lolol.**

 **Also Marinette you hardass.**


	15. Blades

**So, I moved back to England. It's hella cold after being in Texas for so long, just saying. Also they still have milkmen, which is weird to me.**

 **This chapter's a tad explicit. Just a tad. It makes me wish I never got my sisters reading this fic. Oh well.**

 **(C) I own none of the characters.**

* * *

Adrien sat on the couch in his immaculate hotel room, staring at the front door Chloé had exited from half an hour ago. His finger traced the rim of the wine bottle Ladybug had drunk from and it seemed to him that centuries had passed since then – the sun had been slow in its ascent and his thoughts had plagued him as he'd waited for it anxiously, all hope of sleep forgotten.

His mind showed him Ladybug as she jumped from his window again and again, relentless in its onslaught and leaving his body restless and wanting. He needed to feel the weightlessness of the fall, the air slashing his skin, his heart in his throat. More than anything, he needed to feel her beside him in the descent, her dark hair whipping at her face, her expression determined and elated and _free._

His ring had flashed green more than once and he'd quickly quelled it each time, lips tightening. He looked back at the door, remembering Chloé's face as she'd left. There was no way he'd be able to live in France peacefully so long as she made such an expression of hatred towards him. His plan was in motion, but would everything pull through in time?

He turned to look out the windows at the rising sun, bringing the wine bottle to his lips.

* * *

The black door to the townhouse was just as shiny as ever as Ladybug crouched on the roof of the house opposite. She'd watched Natalie leave 20 minutes ago, shopping bags in hand, and figured if she was going to make a move now would be the time.

She swung around the building and alighted in the tiny backyard, pressing up against the back door to avoid the large windows on either side. Breaking one of the small glass panels, she reached in and undid the locks before letting herself into the modern kitchen, her feet silent on the tiled floor.

She made her way out to the hallway, her resolve hardening at the sight of the cane in the umbrella stand once more. Her steps were cautious, nerves on edge and jaw tight. Her breathing was erratic in her ears, her every cell on high alert.

There was a living room at the end of the corridor. In that living room sat a man.

She had expected him to be there. Had hoped, even. But still the sight of him caused her to stop dead in her tracks, every vessel in her body screaming.

Gabriel Agreste smiled.

"Ah, Ladybug. I had wondered if you would ever figure it out, you know. And here you are, living up to my expectations," his blue eyes were cold and he sat formally, despite the fact that he was clearly ill and the chair seemed to swallow him. Her trained eyes assessed his suit and caught the fray of a sleeve, the slight crease in the collar, promptly shattering the illusion of the immaculate designer and instead alluding to his empty shell.

"Hawkmoth. It's been a while." Because _of course_ Adrien's father was Hawkmoth, _of course_ Adrien had had to hide it from her _, of course_ he hadn't been able to actually kill him.

Which begged the question – _what happened that night?_

"Oh, no my dear, I'm afraid that ship sailed long ago, you and my son made sure of that. I take it he doesn't know you're here…?" He asked with false innocence, lifting a cup to his lips and taking a sip of tea, eyebrows raised mockingly.

Her eyes narrowed and he took that as confirmation, the corners of his lips curling cruelly. He gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite but she ignored him and continued to stare him down, arms crossed.

He shrugged, "I'm curious as to how much you know, though. Obviously not much if you're standing here in front of me willingly. Am I correct?"

He nodded at her silence and continued, "Those two always have been particularly secretive, I'm not at all surprised they haven't told you anything," he leant forward, "I, however, no longer have anything to hide, and would be delighted to answer your questions. Especially if the answers lowered your opinion of them. There's a very high chance of that being possible, I'll warn you now."

She felt a trickle of cold sweat down the back of her neck. She had no doubt he was telling the truth – who kept secrets that made them look _better?_

Her determination wavered slightly, her mind flickered through old images of a time before any of this had happened. Chat Noir's face obscured her view, youthful, rounder, the happiest she'd ever seen him. Those precious memories she'd held on to for so long might be forever tainted by what his father, _their old nemesis_ , had to say. There would be no going back once she found out the truth.

"Tell me everything," she replied.

He began with how he killed the previous Chat Noir.

* * *

Adrien could've kicked himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings. In all honesty, he hadn't quite expected Chloé to attack so quickly, he'd thought he would have a bit more time before he was cornered in alleys, at least.

He was a block away from his hotel, had been on his way to get dinner from the deli around the corner, when the first man had started following him. He hadn't really thought anything of it; huge, burly men were allowed to walk on the sidewalk too, after all. It was only after the second heavily-muscled guy with the shaved head showed up that he started to get suspicious, but by that time a third had appeared in front of him and Adrien had promptly been herded into said alley, the three thugs blocking his exit. He sighed.

"So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Adrien asked sarcastically with a flourish and a bow that was a bit too low not to be mocking.

The biggest with the shaved head cracked his knuckles and advanced with a leer, "Monsieur D'arque sends his regards," he growled and pulled back his fist. Adrien prepared to dodge, watching as the meaty hand drew closer in seemingly slow motion. It never even had a chance to connect, as a familiar cord wrapped itself around the forearm, yanking it out of harm's way and unbalancing its owner.

Adrien blinked in surprise as an all-too-familiar red form fell from the sky in front of him, knife already in hand and face ferocious. His heart instantly gave a too-obvious squeeze and he grimaced at its betrayal.

The fight was fierce. Ladybug dodged, weaved, struck; the men pulled out their own knives – longer, deadlier than hers – and suddenly she was being cut, slashed, punched, and Adrien was frozen. He stood there, trying to move, unable to tear his eyes away as her body was mercilessly beaten again and again.

 _Use your Lucky Charm!_ He mentally screamed, his fingers twitching, body paralyzed from his fear for her.

She was knocked down, the one with the shaved head looming over her, blade brandished. Years of fighting instinct finally kicked in and Adrien was suddenly crashing to the ground on top of him, his entire body weight being used to _get him the fuck away from HIS Lady._ He distantly felt someone trying to pull him up but he ignored it. He looked down and realized his knuckles were red.

" _ADRIEN,"_ a voice breached his ears through the haze and he blinked slowly, languidly, resurfacing. Her face swam into focus, blue eyes huge and so, so _blue._ He let her lead him away, shoulder braced under his arm. There was another figure there, dark in the background, and all of a sudden they were in his hotel room, the low light too bright and his hands were sticky and her eyes were on his again and _blue._

A drink was placed in his palm, then taken away and held to his lips instead, the instantaneous burn of the liquid clearing his head and stilling his fingers.

He saw that he was on his couch as she knelt in front of him, a cloth in hand and wiping the last of the blood from his fingers, the red matching her costume. Her skin peaked through the tears in the fabric and again he watched as those men tore at her and again his teeth clenched and hands shook and he looked down in surprise as she wrapped her fingers around his, her brow furrowed.

"Why didn't you use it?" his question was little more than a whisper but he knew she had heard.

"Use what?" she replied, picking up the glass and downing the rest of the whisky, her expression too nonchalant to not be hiding something.

He leant forward until she looked up, their faces inches apart, "You _know_ what. _Why didn't you use your Lucky Charm_?"

She didn't blink, didn't look away, didn't give him any respite from her next words, "I can't use it anymore. Not since you left."

His mind went numb, her gaze wasn't accusatory but it also wasn't forgiving and his shoulders hunched under the weight of his fault.

"H-how –"

" _Don't you get it?_ It only works when Chat is there, alive. There can't be good luck without the bad. And without luck, I'm nothing more than a regular person, that's why this –" she gestured to her wounds "–happens. That's why I don't have spots anymore, as each one left I got weaker."

He started to say something, although he had no idea what it might be. The words were there on his tongue, the syllables in the back of his throat, but she pressed a finger to his lips, automatically silencing. In spite of what she'd said her eyes were gentle and the finger swept its way over his bottom lip to his cheekbone, down to the edge of his jaw. He felt the movement with baited breath, pulse shuddering.

"But I also became stronger, in my own right. Without you," she drew closer, her breath dusting the bridge of his nose, the curve of his chin.

"I don't need you…" her eyelids were lowering and he was lulled into her rhythm, eyes darkening but body motionless, letting her move as she wished. His lashes flickered as her teeth grazed his ear, making sure he heard her next words very clearly.

" _But I want you_." That was it. That was the extent of his restraint.

This kiss was not like the first. It was so sickeningly tender, the fragile press of lips, the longing _groan_ that escaped between them. It was chaste and more tortuous than anything Adrien could ever imagine, he felt his nails _ache_ to rip at her clothes, her mask too obscuring and her suit concealing the places he wanted to kiss the most. Her hands were slow across the planes of his chest, teasing, her nails scraping delicately against the flushed skin beneath.

His breath shuddered across her cheek as she traveled lower and his shirt was suddenly on the floor and her index finger sloped the curve of his bellybutton, ghosting down the V of his hips. He stood before he couldn't anymore and pulled her up after him, his hands caressing her thighs and lifting her against him. Her ankles instinctively locked and arms wrapped themselves around his neck, her mouth to his throat.

His hands slid further then and she muffled a moan into his collarbone. The mattress creaked as they fell upon it and she was pressed into the sheets, his body encasing her and his touch torture.

It was with great pleasure that Adrien realized just how _skin-tight_ her suit actually was, and he did not hesitate to put the knowledge to good use. With a grin that was more of a baring of fangs, he worked his way down her body, tongue trailing liquid heat across her collarbone, the tip of her breast, the curve of her hip, the inside of her thigh.

Her back arched with a gasp as he _really_ put that fiendish mouth of his to work, her fingers threading through his hair and knees quivering with each lick and suck and _bite._ Wordlessly, she transformed, forgoing her civilian clothes and baring her naked flesh to the cold, and he was suddenly relentless in his hunger after being starved for far, _far_ too long. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries but he reached up and removed it, wanting to hear her, wanting to feel her, wanting to taste her, wanting to _consume_ her.

Her hands grew desperate, body rocking and straining, fingers gripping his hair and pulling him closer. His groan was swallowed by her skin and his hips grated against the bed frame, his veins pulsing with her pants and it suddenly _wasn't enough_ and with a growl he was on her mouth again, teeth clashing with hers and tongues scraping against canines. He was ferocious in his onslaught and she was all too willing, rolling her hips up to meet his and letting his shudder vibrate through her bones.

She reached down and with one movement undid his belt, reveling in the feel of his jeans against her skin before she removed them completely, the soft fabric of his underwear soon gone too until it was just flesh against flesh. All their muscles tensed in unison and they both froze, all senses hyperaware and arteries singed and fingertips like needles and slowly, _slowly_ , he eased into her, eyelids fluttering and lips disappearing between teeth.

This time was not like the first. It was tantalizing, controlled, and so achingly, _achingly_ deliberate. They wanted to feel, _really_ feel what they had done to each other, what they had made each other. This was more than just one night – this was their entire relationship. They _knew_ each other, and no amount of time had changed that, _could_ change that, even. Each movement was a memory, each intake of breath a regret. In the moonlight each scar on their bodies was a map, and both of those maps lead to the same place.

* * *

Later, she was nestled in his arms, head on his shoulder and legs intertwined, breathing drowsy and in time with the other. She tilted her lips to his ear, her breath rustling the hair at his temple. She languidly trailed a hand to his neck, her finger caressing the pulse beneath his jaw.

" _I know what you did. Your father told me_ ," she exhaled, the knife in her hand pressing into his skin.

He closed his eyes, a smile on his lips, as she drew the blade across his throat.

* * *

 **Mari. No. Why.**

 **I wish I wrote more sex scenes. Need more practice. *shrug***


	16. Ashes

**Sorry for the wait and that awful cliffhanger, I've been interviewing a lot and haven't felt like writing. Also one guest reviewer suggested I just leave the story at that and I considered it, but then remembered I still have some things I want to wrap up. Although, as one villain from a certain successful HBO franchise once said - "If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention." Some of you are so optimistic and it's just so _cute._**

 **(C) I own none of the characters.**

* * *

He waited for the sting of the blade but it never came.

With trepidation he opened one eye and then the other, staring up with incredulity at the soft smile on her lips. He didn't want that smile – he needed something sharp, cutting, an expression that could rival any knife. He didn't deserve the tender forgiveness in her eyes, the casual brushing of her fingers through his hair.

"Why –"

"It doesn't matter. None of it does," she whispered, her breath a blessing, her words worship on high.

"Did he…?"

"He told me everything. How he killed the old Chat Noir, how the old Ladybug, secretly working as his assistant, stole the ring from him and gave it to you, thinking it would be safe with the son he never paid attention to. How she gave up her own miraculous and left it where I found it." She leant down and pressed her lips to the warmth of his shoulder, eyes never leaving his.

"He told me how he eventually recognized your ring and realized what it meant." She brushed her lips downwards, along the curve of his bicep.

"He told me how he manipulated you." His eyes closed.

"You stole all that money from those rich people and he used his powers as Hawkmoth to control them. But then you stopped. Because he found out my identity."

Adrien's eyes flashed open, watching her. Her lashes were lower, her gaze not quite on him.

"You had Natalie send money to my parents to get them to move out of Paris."

His voice rasped from his throat, "She was the one who figured it out; she got suspicious after that hat designing contest where she saw your earrings. I asked her not to tell me who you were, just make sure you were safe. Of course, you didn't go with them and we had to come up with a new plan. You're too stubborn for your own good, you know."

"And that's when you decided to end everything once and for all."

Chills ruptured along their bodies, remembering that night, their muscles reliving the battle. Her mouth left his skin and she looked down at him, expressionless.

"But of course you couldn't kill your father, you just made it look like you did. But there was a side of your power that I didn't know about."

He nodded, "Natalie told me, it was how they would force kwami's out of miraculous holders whenever they turned evil back in the day. Cataclysm doesn't just destroy."

"And you two came up with the whole plan – fake his death, destroy the building, 'lose' his body. He's been hiding in her house ever since."

Adrien let out a breath, staring up at the ceiling. He felt all the stress he'd been hording for years in his limbs, bones, the finger that held his black ring.

"When we defeated him, all the people he used to control came looking. They came to our house that night. That's why I destroyed it. That's why I left."

"…And why did you come back? You could have just gone back to America after the wedding." She wasn't looking at him now, a slight crease in her brow and the corners of her mouth tight.

He ran a hand over his face, dragging the skin from his cheekbones, "The pink kwami. The Hawkmoth kwami – Natalie said she thought she had a lead on where it was. She was wrong, though."

"So why did you stay?" Her gaze pierced him and the answer he'd been repeating to himself like a mantra rose to his lips, "The show –" but he stopped himself, because he knew it wasn't the truth. He'd never bothered attending the Winter Shows in the past, this one was no different. He wasn't staying in the city for his business and she knew it.

He took her hand, fingers playing with her scarred knuckles, the remnants of old needle pricks visible on her fingertips. They were the hands of a fighter, a creator, a hero, and his were unmarked and childlike in comparison.

"You know I can never forgive you for keeping all of this a secret, especially when it also involved my family, right?"

"Then why –"

"Why am I still here?" she smirked and sat up. His eyes traced the pattern of faint freckles down her back, how they intertwined with the silver slivers of scars and old grass-stain bruises.

"…Because I've done a lot worse." She finished and he found his fingers curling in on themselves as he yearned to touch those soft shoulders, trace those splintered ribs. She wouldn't want that, he knew. She didn't want the guilt of her sins to be cushioned – she was someone who forced herself to feel and be constantly reminded of every single one; that was her atonement. He looked down at the ring on his finger, the black surface unforgiving, remembering his own.

They sat in silence for a while, watched as the sun rose through the windows, watched as it shed light on the harsh truths that were better left to the shadows.

Marinette eventually spoke and he blinked, the endless cycle of his mind shattered.

"…What if I knew where the pink kwami was? What would you do?"

He sat there, processing her words. The sunlight illuminated the edges of her skin and she'd never looked more foreign to him than she did at that moment.

"… _Do_ you know where it is?" he asked slowly, his tongue thick and heavy on his jaw.

"That wasn't what I asked," she replied and he watched her breath as it exited her ribs, tore itself free from her spine and still she didn't look at him.

"I would…" His brain sought desperately for a train of thought that ended with his answer.

"I would…" In response it dredged up half-formed memories of pink masks, dead eyes, jewelry and credit cards threading through his claws.

" _I would…_ " His vision was pink as his hands did things, unbidden by him.

" _I…would…_ " His vision was red.

"I would kill it." He replied.

She nodded, "Then there's somewhere we must go.

* * *

The door of Natalie's townhouse was just as black and shiny as she remembered. Natalie greeted them at the door with a look of surprise, but said nothing as both Marinette and Adrien barged passed her, the two of them alighting in the living room in front of one smiling Gabriel Agreste.

"My son…and Ladybug, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, his voice inquisitive save for the look in his eye as they made contact with Marinette's.

"Father, Marinette says you know where the pink kwami is," Adrien's tone was accusatory yet it wavered on a few syllables, as if his own voice couldn't completely believe what his mouth was saying.

Gabriel Agreste's smile grew deeper and he leant back in his chair, the angles of his shoulders pushing back into the plush fabric.

"Marinette is correct," he replied in his clipped tone and Adrien's eyes narrowed, his face inches from his father's, his fingers clawing into the arms of his father's chair.

" _THEN. WHERE. IS. IT?"_ he ground from between his teeth, the air in his lungs rattling, the muscles down his back rigid.

Gabriel Agreste watched the emotions on his son's face. Watched as they flitted from anger to calm to disbelief to belief to hatred to love and still he could feel nothing for this son of his, hadn't been able to since his wife left. Hadn't wanted to ever feel anything again. To live you needed things to drive you, and Gabriel Agreste had seen and thought of nothing but the interior of the room he was currently sitting in for many years now.

Face unchanged he pointed to his lapel, to the spot below his collarbone off to the left, to the place his heart was.

"I grabbed her and absorbed her right after you forced her out of my brooch. You know how kwami can phase through solid objects? Walls of flesh are no different. She's still here, and there's only one way to remedy that."

Adrien immediately snapped back up and took a few steps back, head shaking slightly. He looked at Marinette for help, for answers, for her to contradict what he'd just said. She just looked back at him. He looked at Natalie who stood silently in the doorway. She said nothing.

"I…no…" words were foreign to him then, communication incomprehensible. How could they all be looking at him with understanding expressions when they had no idea how he _felt?_

He startled as Marinette took his hand, her finger brushing over the surface of his ring. The touch gave him chills, ones that began in that finger, then numbed his arm, sternum, toes. The blinding green flash came next, unbidden, unstoppable. Marinette's eyes widened at the light, Gabriel Agreste's eyes crinkled, Natalie's eyes narrowed.

For the first time in four years Chat Noir stood in place of Adrien, and the years had changed him. His once-unruly hair was _untamable_ , the leather of his costume darker than before, thicker, more like armor. The ears that pressed to the back of his head and tail that lashed were real, not leather replicas. The bell at his throat was gone – he was no longer housecat but all panther, claws vicious and grin lethal. His baton was nowhere in sight but Marinette had no doubt that he didn't need it, this Chat would have no problem physically ripping someone apart and laughing as he did. She looked at his eyes, once a steady comfort, now slitted and animal and she knew then that she'd lost him.

She blinked and his hand was gone from hers and at his father's throat. She blinked and Gabriel Agreste was gone. She blinked and Chat Noir was gone, ashes swirling in his wake.

Marinette looked down at the pile of silt and dust that covered the chair, then looked at Natalie. Natalie looked down at the pile, then at Marinette.

Without a word Marinette turned to leave, to find her partner, to get him back. She was stopped by a hand across the doorway and a sentence that made her mind pause.

"You can't use Lucky Charm anymore, can you?" Natalie's words were too accurate, too knowing for Marinette to brush them aside. She looked up at her predecessor, that glance all the confirmation Natalie needed.

She nodded, "Ladybug needs to be optimistic, kind, pure. You're corrupt and your powers are failing you. You know what it means. Tikki knows what it means. Now uphold your end of the bargain."

Natalie watched the front door slam behind the girl, watched as the force of it caused the cane in the umbrella stand to rattle. A moth fluttered at the window, trying to escape.

She turned to the armchair, a decided frown on her face, and went to find the vacuum.

* * *

Chat Noir ran.

The freezing wind whipped at him, tore through his hair, chapped his grinning lips. His claws gouged into roof tiles, the sides of buildings, cracking windows and puncturing drainpipes. In his mind he knew it was only temporary, this happiness was only fleeting and fragile, but all his mind could actually think at that moment was _freedom._

He'd forgotten what it felt like to have heightened senses, what it felt like to actually pay attention to the detail of the world instead of just letting it pass by in a grey blur. Had the sky always been so blue, the scents of the city so sharp? Maybe once, he reasoned, but that had been a long time ago, another version of himself.

He paused on top of Notre Dame, his old favorite haunt, _their_ old favorite haunt. That was where he finally released his transformation, finally faced his penitence.

Plagg looked up at him, his tiny body skeletal, huge green eyes sunken into his skull. There were no words for what had transpired all those years, no apology that would be sincere enough, no excuse that would actually mean anything.

Without a word the kwami took the silver ring offered to him, the object that had been his prison for the past four years, and vanished.

Adrien sat there looking down at his hand, wondering how it looked so small without the presence of the ring. The skin that was beneath the band had turned white and he caught sight of the faint dusting of ash still on his fingertips and he _howled._

* * *

Ladybug swung through the entire city searching for her partner, searched as the shadows grew longer and she mistook every one for him, searched until night fell and she returned to his hotel room, thinking he would have come home by then.

She found the room newly-cleaned and empty, his bags gone and the window for her was locked.

* * *

 **You fucked up Marinette what the fuck. This was dark guys and I'm sorry. Kinda.**

 **Happy Valentine's Day!**


	17. Light

**SURPRISE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER**

 **Sorry for the wait, I've been living in hostels the last few weeks and just haven't felt like writing. But now I have a job and am *hopefully* on my way to having somewhere to live so things are hopefully getting better~**

 **Enjoy.**

 **(C) I own none of the characters.**

* * *

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette felt her feet move by themselves across the stage, the tassel from her hat flicking into her eye and the carpet snagging on her heels. A bright light blinded her and she was suddenly standing with the others, a diploma in hand and gown whipping around her calves. She could hear her father yelling in the background but his voice reached her through a fog, everything was slow and blurry but her mind still couldn't keep up.

"We finally did it!" She looked at the hand suddenly on her shoulder (or maybe it had always been there) and followed the arm to the owner's beaming face, his red hair flashing and eyes careful.

It took her a beat to process his words and she could tell from the tension of his smile that it had been a beat too long. She twitched the edges of her mouth up, the grin feeling sickening on her face.

"Congratulations!" she supplied, because it was what everyone around her was saying and it saved her from thinking of something. The group started moving and they followed, Nathanael pulling her off to the side once they exited the amphitheater.

"So, I need to talk to you. We haven't really spoken about what happened weeks ago and I really want to."

Marinette blinked, her brain slowly speeding up as it processed that _this wasn't a conversation that she wanted to be having._

She stepped back from his grasp, hands smoothing down the front of her gown. She breathed.

"You already know everything that happened. I told you."

He frowned, "I know that the plan was to use my power to coax Chat Noir out of him. Not to make him kill his father. Not to make him _disappear again_."

She could tell he was hurt, could see that her betraying use of his moth had unraveled him slightly. He clearly wasn't used to being forced to do things against his will, something that she envied to no end.

A muscle in her cheek twitched, "I'm sorry it all ended up this way. Making him leave again was the furthest thing from my mind, believe me. But there's nothing we can do. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"I'm moving to Rome."

She paused, back turned to him as she'd started to leave. He continued at her hesitance, "One of my comic fans messaged me saying there's another hero there that fights weird monsters. She thought I should check it out. I've researched the attacks, they're real, and I'm going."

Without turning she nodded and left, leaving him to watch the retreating back of the girl he'd once loved not too long ago.

* * *

The front door to her apartment whined shut and Marinette slumped onto her bed, mattress creaking. Tikki looked up at her from the pillow, eyes sharp.

"How was graduation? And dinner with your parents?" she asked, having not been present for either event. She hadn't accompanied Marinette out in weeks, and Marinette hadn't thought to question it.

"Fine," she replied, staring up at the peeling ceiling.

"You got two emails," Tikki continued, glancing over to the laptop on the desk. Wordlessly Marinette wrenched herself from the covers and clicked on the icon, her heart spluttering when she saw who the first was from, then practically stopping when she read the contents of the second.

The address of the second was generic, something likely machine-generated, and she would've deleted it had it not been for the single line of text.

 **You are not forgiven, but with this we're even.**

There was a single attachment. She opened it. A tear rolled down her cheek.

* * *

Adrien leant back in his office chair, the New York streetlights reflecting off his desk. He tapped the titanium of his new ring against the wood in thought. He'd needed to have something there, something to fill the absence of his miraculous. He'd kept feeling surprised every time he hit his hand on something and that particular area of his finger would come into contact with it, and while the replacement did help with that problem, the weight was still just a bit _off._

He stood and left the office, turning back to look at the chair there that had also belonged to his father. His hands shook.

The revolving doors squealed as he exited the lobby and Adrien Agreste never stepped foot in the building again.

* * *

Strawberry-flavored gum coated Chloé's lips as the bubble she'd been working on for the last 2 minutes burst against them and she idly scraped it off with her teeth, her eyes lazily scanning the hotel email for anything that didn't involve guest reservations or other hotel-related things. Her lips pursed, another bubble emerging, when her phone beeped and she swiped the lock screen, eyes flickering over the new email. The gum fell out of her mouth, forgotten.

* * *

Natalie sighed at the clatter of mail falling onto her front door mat, her hands already lamenting the loss of warmth from the tea she'd just made as she went to clear the post from her entryway. It was the usual compilation of bills and gym ads, but the weight of the last latter made her pause, the white starchiness of the envelope and the address label were just a little too official to be written off as a bank statement or the like.

She went back to her dining room table, her nail tearing expertly through the seal. Her eyes flashed from side to side as she read the letter, then went back to read it again. Then again. She slowly lowered it, her pupils unfocused and staring off into the distance. The cane in the umbrella stand stood there just in her peripheral, mocking.

* * *

The news was having an absolute field day.

Alya stood in the middle of the office as people rushed around her. It was her first day back after her honeymoon for _Christ's sake –_ she hadn't thought she'd been _this_ out of the loop. She scanned the front page of the newspaper in her hand again, the other still holding the bagel she'd been about to take a bite of but had long since forgotten.

" **Agreste Hands Over All To Old Secretary"**

It was scandalous, it was big business news, it was definitely front-page worthy, it was _absolutely fucking ludicrous._

Alya had read the entire article three times, just to make sure she'd actually read it correctly because _surely Adrien couldn't be so fucking stupid._

He'd given it all to Natalie, his father's old secretary. All of it, his entire company, his buildings, the brand itself. The whole article detailed an exact list of everything he'd handed over and the speculations behind the drastic move, yet said nothing about where the once super model-turned businessman-turned ghost currently was, and Alya couldn't help think that was a good move on their part. If she'd known she'd make a point of marching her ass over there and throttling some sense into him.

In her anger she'd turned the page, raging for some sort of explanation, but instead found another article about the strange sudden return of a sizeable amount of money to the bank accounts of the once-rich. The precise number happened to match the amount reported stolen from the families four years ago, and had been transferred there by an anonymous account. The article then featured an extensive interview with Chloé Bourgeois as she made sure everyone knew she was quitting her job and exactly which designer items she was planning on buying with her returned inheritance.

Alya, being the natural reporter that she was, couldn't help but wonder if the two articles, as different as they were, were somehow related.

* * *

Adrien stowed his luggage above his head and sat back in his seat, the plane engines rumbling to life beneath him. He reclined into the material, the low chatter and confined space of the economy seating lulling his muscles to relax, his spine recoiling from its upright position. Snow whirled idly passed the tiny window and he watched its descent, the flake reminding him of Nino and Alya's wedding. Reminding him of Marinette's startled face when she'd first seen him after all those years. Reminding him of her fevered eyes, dazed and unfocused and freed of grudge. Reminding him of her lips, their snarl, their laugh, their absolute underlying tenderness.

" _When you left, you broke her,"_ her mother's words at the wedding had not been kind, but he hadn't wanted them to be. His absence had impacted their entire family, and no one wanted to see their daughter a slave to the disappearance of a demon.

With a start the intercom asked him to switch his phone to airplane mode and he complied, a quick glance at the calendar reminded him that Marinette had graduated that afternoon. He hoped she liked his graduation present.

* * *

Marinette stood in front of her family's old bakery.

 _No,_ she chided herself, the paper heavy in her hand, _it's mine. My bakery._

The email from the mystery sender had contained one attachment – the deed to the shop building.

She looked up at it, wondering when its previous occupants had moved, and whether or not her anonymous benefactor had had anything to do with their departure. The windows were darker and emptier than she'd ever seen them. The building stared back hollowly.

"Tikki." Her voice rattled around the space, the building swallowing her syllables and spitting them back at her. The kwami emerged from her bag, the significance of this visit not being lost on the sprite.

"Tikki," she said again, words failing her, blue eyes meeting blue and complete, unadulterated _sorrow._

" _Tikki,"_ her sob hiccupped around the walls and Tikki nodded once in acknowledgment, then once again as Marinette reached up and unfastened her earrings, then once again as she handed them back to the kwami, her tiny fists closing around the studs. At the contact the kwami faded, her spots finally returning to her skin before she disappeared completely and Marinette was alone.

She sank to her knees and let the shadow of the bakery engulf her.

* * *

 **Four Years Later**

Spring sunlight filtered through the curtains and into Adrien's office, the weak London rays glancing off of the dark oak of his desk and causing dust moats to swarm the leather books lining the walls. A stack of papers littered a corner of the desk and he graded the work leisurely, chuckling from time to time at the more outrageous answers some of the students had supplied to some of the harder questions. Whoever said physics majors didn't have a sense of humor clearly had never graded their midterms.

He reached over his head and stretched, spine curling comfortably in the supple chair. The light warmed his face and the peak of blue through the window was enough to persuade him to take a break, the pleasant weather too good to pass up after the previous constant rain.

The air was fresh and he had a persistent urge to run along the rooftops but quelled it quickly, favoring instead the walk through the park to his favorite coffee house. He glanced at his phone, smiling as the headlines on his news app continued to praise the new CEO of the Agreste company. Natalie had taken her new position in stride and the one share of company stock Adrien had kept for sentimentality definitely wasn't hurting from her ministrations.

The shop bell chimed as he entered and he let the coffee scent seep into his clothes, breathing in deeply as he waited in line, the ring on his finger tapping the counter absentmindedly. The weight of it was still wrong and it didn't quite make the same tenor when tapped, but the skin beneath was still whiter than the rest and, really, Adrien liked this new ring.

He carried his coffee to a table and his hands didn't shake and his vision wasn't red and he was _free._

* * *

Marinette exited her office, the chic décor giving way to brilliant light and she was honestly surprised London could even supply any weather other than constantly overcast. She hefted the designs under her arm; she needed to prepare them for the new interns but the heavenly sky was just too tempting and she'd opted to do it in her favorite coffee shop instead of cooped up in her office. There she'd be constantly interrupted by her staff with questions about the new summer line and she really just needed a _break._

She crossed through the park, the grass strewn with college kids from the University across the green, sunbathing and eating and working and she remembered the days when she used to do the same. The day she'd graduated college she'd simultaneously received both the acceptance to the design internship and the deed to her family's old bakery. That very same day she'd failed and lost her best friend.

The day after she'd sold the bakery and left Paris forever.

Her phone beeped and she stifled a grin at the picture Alya had sent of Marinette's new godchild, the infant dressed head to toe in red and black spots, Nino rolling his eyes in the background. Marinette was sure Alya was the only person alive so ecstatic about the new influx of spotted merchandise, but couldn't blame the marketers responsible. From what she'd heard, a certain crime-fighting duo were making quite the name for themselves over in the East and, really, the world could always do with a little more luck.

She reached the coffee house and entered. The shop bell chimed.

* * *

 **Well I hoped you liked it even though I kinda left it with a wee cliffhanger at the end there...LOLOLOLOL.**

 **(It was also maybe not quite as dark as I was planning on leaving it?)**

 **Will there be a sequel? Who knows. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knowwssss.**

 **(Hopefully I tied up most of the loose ends at least...kinda..)**

 **Let me know what you thought of this garbage!**


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